


Caught Between The Promise and the Things I Know

by Nepherim, We_Have_Become_Anathema



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Brother Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Fallen Angels, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, This was originally an RP so there are still large unedited sections that have constant POV shifts, Wings, series 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 185,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nepherim/pseuds/Nepherim, https://archiveofourown.org/users/We_Have_Become_Anathema/pseuds/We_Have_Become_Anathema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, Sam would have felt bad, felt like he was corrupting this shining, glorious angel, but that was so long ago. And if Castiel didn't think of himself as pure, Sam wasn't going to either. They weren't naive, for all that others thought of them; and he owed Castiel that much honesty, that much courtesy, if nothing else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We are not the Sum of our Failures

**Author's Note:**

> To everyone reading this fic, I sincerely thank you for dropping by and I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> I'm warning you guys now, this is going to be a long, and often painful, journey. The story is completely written out, just shy of 190,000 words, spanning 21 chapters. I will be updating it every Friday, so I hope to see you guys again next week. :D
> 
> And as always, I would love it if people wanted to beta. I've got one right now, but a second or third set of eyes would be vastly appreciated.

Sam sat out on the edge of the walkway outside the door of his motel room, simply taking in the night lights and clearing his head in the cold and the dark. Anger was simmering inside of him, but more than that, he was awash in a sea of hurt and pain. The things that Dean had said, both implicit and direct, had cut him to the core.

So even after all this time, Dean didn't feel like he could trust him, still saw Sam as someone who would betray him? Well, that was just fine. Sure, whatever.

After all, he'd learned how to live with the glances that Dean sent his way, the endless distrust and worry. First because of what their father had said, then the psychic powers, then the demon blood, then Lucifer, then being soulless, then being crazy. The list of reasons that Dean had for not trusting Sam was long and painful, a catalogue of all his worst moments, his most spectacular failures. And there were so many days where Sam wished that saying sorry could ever be enough, that they could go back to how they'd been in the beginning, just two brothers hunting for their father.

But they weren't those boys anymore.

The places they'd once been wouldn't fit them anymore.

And so he sat outside their hotel room and stared out into the empty spaces between the stars and tried his best not to remember the Cage, or the bond he'd felt with Lucifer, or the rush of the demon blood, or the fact that he could still tap into his powers if he'd only train them. He tried not to think about the million ways in which he was a monster, in which he was a freak. Little good that did him, but he knew if he just kept trying, just kept denying who and what he was long enough, that maybe, just maybe, he'd be good enough for his brother. For anyone.

Castiel watched the younger Winchester with sad blue eyes, invisible, unable to be sensed by the mortal. He'd found that Fred was still perfectly content after a few days, so he had left; his sense of purpose, long since faded, was degrading even more, bit by bit, grain by grain, like a stone polished by the current of the river. He'd wandered, drifting from place to place, town to town, keeping an eye out for cases, even though when he would discover one, he'd passed them over simply because he couldn't muster the will to care.

He was a broken being, a pitiful excuse for a mortal, the creatures who murdered and hurt each other over all sorts of inane things; but he was even more pitiful when one considered his divine origins. Once he'd called himself an angel of the Lord. Now the only label that came to him was 'wretched'. He believed it whole-heartedly after the mass murder of his brethren, by his own hand, simply to protect a handful of humans; one of whom was sitting in front of him, looking as miserable as Castiel felt.

The soft flutter of wings accompanied his appearance, and the humbled angel stood before Sam, uncertain as to why he did so. He had no real reason to be here, there was no one that needed his aid. Castiel didn't realize consciously that it was because he was lonely, so utterly alone, with no one to turn to and no reason to drag himself through each miserable day. But his subconscious recognized the same quality in Sam, and he was drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.

"Hello, Sam."

Sam looked up at Castiel, his eyes taking a moment to focus after staring so long into the darkness, the hotel's lights reflecting off Castiel. "Hey. Fred doing alright?" he asked quietly, needing something to say, needing some way to talk about something other than the cacophony of thoughts and feelings in his mind.

His eyes swept over the angel, and he noted little details here and there that made him uneasy. The usually impeccably clean, ordered angel was letting himself fall into disarray, small sections of his clothing having loose strings and tears, or the ghost of stubble on his chin, or the red rim to his eyes, as if he had been staring into the sun for days. To say that the angel looked different, changed from before he went into Purgatory was an understatement. Standing before him was an angel who looked tired and drained, no matter how much Grace was pumping through him.

"Fred is...fine," Castiel said hesitantly, his own eyes raking over Sam as he stood before him. "How are you?" He was almost certain the younger Winchester wouldn't answer honestly, and his own body language was almost meek as he spoke again.

"May I... sit with you?"

He didn't want to be a burden or a bother, as the guilt he felt was already overwhelming, bowing his shoulders under its weight. His fingers flexed, and he was ready to be off again at a moment's notice should Sam not wish his presence.

Sam motioned for Castiel to pull up some curb next to him, nodding slightly.

"Good to hear..." He had been worried about the old man, the fate of the psychic hitting him harder than he would have liked. There was the thought that that could be him some day, alone and addled and injuring people without any conscious knowledge. The prospect chilled him to the bones, just as much as the knowledge that he had been the Boy King or Lucifer's vessel.

The angel took a half step forward and turned to sit next to the taller man, giving a halfhearted smile as Sam asked of Fred. He nodded, for no words were required beyond that. A similar thread of thought twined through his own mind, almost identical to Sam's. That Fred's fate could easily become his own, should he forget himself again.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just getting some air, clearing my head. You know how it can be, cooped up with Dean all day long. Figured the..." cold would feel good. Sam didn't say it, didn't finish the sentence, because that would just be one more admission to how he was like Lucifer, how well they'd fit.

And dammit. He really needed to think about other things besides his brother's trust issues or his blatant abuse of Sam's own trust with that fake phone call. "How about you? You look a little... run down, Cas."

With Sam turning the conversation to Dean, Castiel's lips thinned out momentarily, remembering the look of betrayal he had received when he'd admitted he'd intended to stay in Purgatory to do penance for his sins. That look had haunted him from that day, as if he had buried a blade in Dean's gut. Either Sam picked up on it, or he simply didn't want to discuss that line of thought either, and turned the conversation again, to Castiel himself.

Folding his hands neatly on his lap, he studied the cracks in the pavement before him, answering without looking up. "I... have been better," he said softly before raising his eyes to Sam's. "I have been trying to find purpose, a way to atone for my sins."

Sam nodded, hands slowly finding each other and pressing a thumb against that old scar unconsciously. "Yeah... I know how that feels." And did he ever understand. There had once been a hope inside of him that he would be forgiven of all of his sins should he only follow the right commandments and pray to the right people and believe firmly enough. But with all that he had been through? With all the things he had done? To say that his faith had been rocked would be a severe understatement.

"I'm sure you'll find some way, and if you don't then you'll find some way to live with them," he said in a quiet voice that was barely audible over the hum of the lights behind them. "After all, they never revoked your powers, even though you started to Fall. So you haven't committed an unpardonable sin, right?"

Would Heaven take Sam, however? Castiel was an angel, and even with all he'd done, it seemed as if he was still not cut off entirely. But Sam... when he'd gone to Heaven, Zachariah had made up a Heaven for him to help force his brother's hand, to make Dean say yes. Did he have any right to be there? With his own nature, depraved and twisted as it was, did he belong to that glorious realm? Or to Hell?

"Yeah... I'm sure you'll find something, Cas."

Castiel watched the way Sam worried, ever observant, though he didn't bring it up. He believed the younger brother when he said he knew how it felt; he’d been there through many of Sam's trials, wishing he could help more. He'd taken Sam's madness away once, the pain of the cage, but it didn't seem like enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

"That's very optimistic of you, Sam," the angel said, sensing that he could be honest here, for once, even if only this once. "But... I don't want to be pardoned..." He looked up at a streetlamp, sighing deeply. "I've considered stripping myself of my Grace and taking my own life with my blade. I don't belong in Heaven. I will never belong there again. I don't believe I belong anywhere," he said softly, shoulders drooping again.

"Dean doesn't understand at all, why I tried to stay in Purgatory and I have... no one.. to speak with about such things. I apologize if I upset you.” He hadn't meant to talk so much, to share so much, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. He felt like he needed to confess, and he dared not walk into a church again.

Listening quietly, Sam alternated between watching the angel and gazing off into the comforting darkness; but when Castiel began to apologize, his entire attention focused on the angel. "No, don't you dare apologize. Not to me..." he replied, voice firmer than he had meant, frenzied. "You... Listen, we've both hurt each other, hurt this world. But you have always been there for me, and..." Sam still remembered the first time he'd met angels, angels who deemed him too filthy to touch, an abomination who was not worthy to shake hands with them. "And you accepted me, knowing full well what I would become, what I'd do. Hell, even Dean doesn't understand that, not fully, not how much I want... wanted that. But you did, and you still found it within your heart to fight for me."

The silence was unbroken besides the electric hum and the dull roar of cars on the highway. Sam looked at his hands and for a moment he saw in his mind's eye the blood that covered them still. "You're a whole lot better than you give yourself credit for." And how Sam wished that could be true of himself as well. "You just didn't realize that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Don't... don't damn yourself when no one else is."

The angel's eyes snapped up as Sam spoke to him firmly, and he looked stunned for a moment at the torrent of words that left the younger Winchester's lips. His mind flickered with old memories, the attempt to help Sam find his way, the attempts to save both men. He took the words in, and clung to them desperately, though everything in him told him to immediately disregard them. They weren't true. He'd sided with Crowley, lied to brothers, and opened Purgatory to steal souls so he could slaughter angels he had worshiped beside for thousands of years. They were all God's children, but then he'd claimed God's title for his own and destroyed those that opposed him...

"You are very kind Sam," he said softly, though he didn't look up, it was clear he believed himself unworthy of such words. "I want you to know that I will continue to watch over you both as long as I am possibly able. I will do everything in my power to keep you both safe, I swear it. I will continue to fight for, and with you, until my last breath," he said softly, lifting his eyes to the taller man. There was no doubt that there would eventually be a last breath, but he couldn't imagine when it might be. He could only hope it would come sooner rather than later.

Sam nodded and looked back out into the night. What did you say to something like that? What could you say? He felt uncomfortable returning the sentiment, not because it was in any way untrue, but because he felt that in that moment it would have lessened Castiel's declaration. So he sat and thought, wondering if he had any right to spur Castiel on when he himself was so empty.

The angel had done worse than Sam only because he'd had more time. If Sam hadn't been able to wrench power back from Lucifer in the cemetery... Well, there was no point thinking about the 'what ifs'.

"I would have wanted to stay in Purgatory too..." Sam whispered, because that would be preferable to the lie that his life had become. Dean had said Purgatory felt pure. Well, maybe it was and maybe it wasn't. Maybe if Sam went there and died, he wouldn't have to find out if his soul belonged to Hell, to the Cage, as he was so certain it did. There were so many nights when he awoke from endless nightmares, certain of the fact that this life was all he had. His soul had joined with Lucifer, and he wasn't certain if Death's raising of his soul from the Cage had changed anything besides his current location.

Castiel glanced sideways at Sam's confession, a gentleness in his tired eyes as he looked the taller man over again. He could only imagine what Sam was thinking. Well, he could do more than imagine, but that would be a severe breach of trust and etiquette. He didn't want to add that to the list of his transgressions. "Purgatory is a terrible place. It's full of the things you hunt, and weapons are in short supply. Monsters are around every corner. You'd do more good out here," he replied, gesturing at the world in general. "You've saved many lives, and touched many people. You are a good man, even though I can tell you don't believe it."

But why should Sam believe him now?

"Heh," Sam laughed, but it was mirthless and broken. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath in, holding the frigid air in as long as he could. "Yeah, maybe. But the problem isn't if I'm a good man or not, Castiel. It's that I don't want to be good. I..." He fought with everything inside of him to be good, to make the right decision, but it was always a fight. He always wanted the dark and the cold. A dream would always be preferable, because the one time he'd felt perfect, he'd destroy that. And each glimpse of happiness after that was hollow and harder and harder to chase after.

"But, come on. We'll go crazy if we just focus on the past, right?" He had already gone crazy. It was a funny thought that Castiel and he had shared the same madness. "Wanna... wanna go for a walk? Sometimes just doing something can help clear your head."

Castiel frowned slightly at the laugh, closing his eyes and mirroring Sam's breath unconsciously before listening to the explanation. Right away, he gave a small smile and shook his head. "That is a trial everyone faces. The choice between doing what is right, and doing what is easy, what we want. And that is what makes you better than most, because you always try to do good, even when you can't see a way it will benefit you." Reaching out slowly, he put a hand on Sam's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before standing, stretching his vessel's limbs.

"We have both already been mad, Sam," he murmured, not realizing the comment was a turn of phrase. "But I think a walk would be enjoyable." He waited patiently, watching the human with comforting eyes. "Which direction would you like to go?" he asked softly, glancing one way down the sidewalk, and then the other.

"Back..." Sam whispered so quietly he was sure no one could hear him, but then he pushed off the curb and looked towards the twinkling lights of the small town. "I think I remember there being a convenience store that way and I could really use something to drink besides Dean's endless supply of alcohol."

His legs started moving him, almost without his volition, away from the door to his motel room, away from Dean. It seemed like he'd been moving away from Dean for years, constantly running from those eyes that looked at him like they had failed him and he had failed them. Death, it seems, changed people.

Castiel caught the word anyway, with his angelic abilities still attached, and he swallowed, giving another small frown, wishing he could offer more comfort to the man somehow. He glanced at the door they'd been sitting in front of, knowing that the elder Winchester was there, probably sulking. He took another deep breath and then trailed after Sam for a few steps, before lengthening his stride to catch up with the much taller male; walking at his side silently, arms swinging slowly as he peered around at the night lights.

He felt a little better than when he'd first appeared, elated to get at least some of the things off his chest, reassured by a friend. It was strange, this new connection he felt with Sam. It hadn't been there before, but then again, he'd never really spoken with Sam for any amount of time.

As they walked through the still night, under flicking streetlights, Sam felt some of his own darkness chased away; enough that he could force it back and lock it away in the corner of his heart where he lied the best. Lied to look happy. Lied for Dean. Lied to Dean. It was all a part of living, he supposed. It hadn't been a lie that he'd been happy this past year, but he was steadily coming to realize that happiness itself had been the lie. Sometimes life really just wasn't fair.

"So, uh..." As much as Sam had always appreciated Castiel's involvement in their lives, and tried to remind Dean to thank the angel, he really didn't know him. What did you talk about with an angel, anyways? You couldn't quite talk about your favorite sports teams together. And the last time he had spent any quality time around an angel, well... Yeah, best not to think about that. "Think you'll keep hunting with us?" he asked quietly, trying not to sound hopeful. Because right now he needed to not be left alone with Dean.

Castiel looked up again, wondering if the question was asked as an offer, or out of trepidation. "Would you have me?" he asked softly. He was fond of the idea, had wanted to hunt with them before the fiasco with Fred, even though he'd changed his mind after. But now he had nothing to do again, and it might be good to spend time with the only two people he might still be able to call friends.

"I think I would like to try again. I believe I only made things more complicated when I tried last. If I did, would you teach me? The sources I have studied apparently aren't very reliable," he said, his grin sheepish, but genuine.

"You studied other sources than Dean and I?" Sam asked, somewhat incredulous, but softened by the light chuckle.

"Programs on the television, movies." Cas nodded solemnly. "It's where I learned about the good cops and bad cops. I think a show called Law and Order?" He squinted for a moment and gave a shrug. "Obviously I did not apply what I learned correctly." He looked up innocently at the stars and sighed.

Sam couldn’t help but laugh a little more as he heard what the angel counted as valid sources. "Yeah, we'd have you." He noticed instantly that he'd spoken in the plural, answering for Dean and himself. And that was the rub of it. It had only taken laying eyes on his brother in that cabin to know that he'd get dragged back into the 'life', get dragged back into Dean. His year apart might not have been healthy, but he'd seen that what Dean and he were together wasn't necessarily healthy either. Dean had always needed Sam more than Sam had needed Dean, but after Purgatory, well... He wasn't sure if they needed each other beyond habit. And that thought scared him more than almost anything else.

"Trust me, you'd be a welcomed addition, skilled or not."

"I was a little... exuberant," he murmured. "But I would be happy to join you again." He wasn't sure how Dean would react, having the constant reminder of his lie around, but if the elder Winchester wanted him to leave, he would be gone just as quickly. "Are you working on a case now?"

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm no good at playing a bad cop either..." Sam said, remembering the time inside the clown establishment, and those horrible interviews. Yes, he'd found the culprit, but his actions hadn't helped in the least when it came to the interviews. "It was..." Would calling an angel cute be held against him? Because it really had been cute, if somewhat hard to watch, embarrassing for the poor man.

"No, Dean is looking for something..." And that was the truth, the whole driving truth of their arrangement. Dean kept looking for something that wasn't there anymore. Sam just wanted to deal with this business of closing the gates of Hell and be done. That's what he'd promised, and his promise, like always, was coming back to bite him in the ass.

Castiel smiled, almost sheepishly, his eyes still red-rimmed but much less numb. He still wasn't completely aware of just how mortified he should have been for his actions, but it didn't matter, the case had been solved and everything was well. He had to skip a half step to catch up with Sam, finding it hard to keep up with the much taller man if he didn't use his angelic powers. "I found a case a few states away. A lady in white, I believe."

Sam promptly stopped walking at the mention of the case, as the words hit him like a punch to the gut. And if he wasn't equal parts lost in the past and dreading the future, he might have laughed as Castiel continued walking for a few seconds before realizing that Sam had stopped. A lady in white. He still had nightmares, still remembered her haunting voice telling him that neither he nor she could never go home, still remembered as the car had plowed into the old homestead; how he'd felt so proud that he'd understood what had been going on but equally hating himself because he didn't want to be good at hunting.

Shaking his head, he put on his best mask and smiled, trying to pass off his stop as anything besides what it had been. "Oh wow, been years since we've found one of those."

Castiel took a few steps more before turning to peer at Sam over his shoulder, blinking at the expressions that crossed the hunter's face in quick succession. His brow furrowed in confusion, unsure of what could garner such a reaction. It should be a simple enough case. Ignoring the smile, because he could easily see through it and there was no point in pretending he couldn't, the angel studied Sam for a long moment.

"What about a woman in white upsets you?"

"Oh no... We're not spending all of tonight licking each other’s wounds," Sam said quietly, motioning for Castiel to start walking again, even as he started to move forward himself. "It's an old story and something I should have gotten over a long time ago." Because for all of the cases they'd been on, all the times that they'd had their lives in danger and saved each other, certain cases just... haunted him more than others; as poor a word choice as that might be.

Hell, he'd never been able to look in a mirror again the same way, and he couldn't hunt werewolves any more, just couldn't, and he couldn't enjoy fires, and don't get him started on the Mystery Spot. Okay? There were things that time didn't heal, some pains that you had to incorporate into who you were because they didn't fade and they didn't go away.

"But don't worry about it, if it's a case, it's just what I need right now." Sitting in a hotel room in icy silence with Dean, yeah, they needed something to focus on.

Castiel blinked. "Licking a wound doesn't sound pleasant. If you're injured, I could easily heal you," he offered, letting his eyes rake over Sam again. He hadn't noticed any signs of physical injury, but the Winchesters had always handled them well enough. He could tell that something was still bothering Sam though, perhaps it was an emotional pain as opposed to a physical one. Taking another breath and falling in step beside his companion again, he looked around once more.

"Metaphorical wounds, Castiel," Sam said with a curl to his lips, finding the angel's literal interpretations as endearing as always. "Emotional ones."

"You want to go right now? I can take us. Should we get..." he trailed off, remembering Sam's lament about being stuck in a room with Dean all day. "Perhaps I can start learning tonight?" he asked, changing the subject, believing Sam would correct him if he wanted to go get the elder Winchester.

And there was a thought, just leaving everything and blinking into existence at the scene of a hunt, no driving or bickering over where to stop for food. No worrying about gas or if they'd make it to a hotel before they were both asleep at the wheel.

But no. He didn't have supplies on him and, "If you really want to learn how to be a hunter properly, you should learn from both Dean and I. He can teach you certain things that I'd never be able to teach you, and vise versa."

Dean had a callousness that made him a better hunter; although Sam knew he was able to be just as good as Dean, better even, when he just let instinct rule. Those months after the Trickster, Gabriel, had let Dean die, proved it all too well. As did when he was Soulless. Sam's problem had always been that he cared too much, was too willing to believe, had too much heart.

And looking at Castiel, he couldn't help but feel that they might both have the same problem in that respect. So yes, Dean should be there to teach the angel how to be more cunning, more cruel.

Once, Sam would have felt bad, felt like they were corrupting this shining, glorious angel, but that was so long ago. And if Castiel didn't think of himself as pure, Sam wasn't going to either. They weren't naive, for all that others thought of them, and he owed Castiel that much honesty, that much courtesy, if nothing else.

Castiel nodded in understanding, biting his bottom lip for a moment and offering a sheepish glance. "I figured that may be the case." Watching as Sam let a few thoughts run through his head, and across his face, he wondered what the mortal was thinking. Sometimes it was all still so alien to him, the concept of free will, not having his path laid out in front of him like length of carpet he only needed to walk along. His carpet had been utterly destroyed, and he was, for all intents and purposes, lost in the woods, hacking his way blindly through mortal feelings and entanglements.

"Yes, you are probably right," the angel said softly, agreeing with the younger brother. It was always best to learn from several people; more often than not, one party knew or understood something another party might not, or have a better way of performing a certain task. That didn't mean he was aware of the thoughts running through Sam's head, and he took another half hop forward to grab the door to the convenience store, pulling it open and holding it still to let the human pass. He followed quietly, looking around at the different foods and drinks, shining like strange little jewels on their shelves and behind glass doors.

He wandered slowly down the aisles as he waited for Sam, fingers hovering over a small red packet with a rainbow it and several small differently colored candies. "Taste the rainbow?" he asked in concern, looking up at the hunter over the shelving. "I don't understand. Rainbows don't have a flavor. They're made of water," he said softly, holding up the package with his head tipped to the side.

Sam smiled slightly and nodded to Castiel as he walked through the door, honestly surprised that the angel had held it open for him. Lord knows where he had picked that up. As they meandered through the store, Castiel would ask him asinine, often ridiculous, questions and Sam would have to fight the smile that kept trying to creep onto his face. It was odd really, but he'd never realized that Castiel was quite so much fun; not intentionally of course, but he was.

So Sam did his best to answer the questions, just little bits and pieces of information and humor, until he found that he actually was starting to feel better. "Well... you've got me there. But maybe they are claiming that if a rainbow had taste, their candy would be it. After all, you can never deny something exists without having omnipotence."

Castiel frowned again, staring at the package with a completely perplexed expression as Sam tried to explain it. "Or you're an angel that has flown through a rainbow before," he said softly, almost to himself before giving a shrug. Keeping the small bag of candy in hand as he wandered down the isle of clear refrigerators in the back, he read every label intently.

Then Sam stumbled across the magazine rack and saw the all too familiar Busty Asian Beauties. It had never been his thing, looking at women splayed across the pages of magazines. Something about it had always disagreed with him, far more so than the simple voyeuristic nature of it. However... this might be enough of a peace offering to break the glacier that had built up between him and Dean. So he grabbed the magazine and a prepackaged salad that didn't quite look like it had turned to rubber or melted, and went to the cash register. "Cas, you want me to get you anything? If so, bring it up here."

In his time as Emmanuel, he had learned a great many things, especially about how women were treated in these days verses biblical times. It was better now, many more women were happy and fulfilled, no matter what the bible may have said to the contrary. He'd learned about chivalry, about sex, though some of the smaller things had still managed to escape him.

Peering over at Sam as he spoke the angel reached out, grabbing a large can of Arizona Sweet Tea and turned back, making his way to the register and setting the drink and the pack of skittles on the counter. "Are you certain it's no trouble? I don't require sustenance, you know." He glanced at the clerk, who was raking them both with a slightly judgmental gaze as he rang up their purchases.

"Yeah, it's no problem. Besides, it's more about the experience than anything else." Feeling normal, faking it until you finally made it real. Basic things that Sam had been doing his whole life. He just wished he'd been better at actually believing his own lies.

When he noticed the looks the clerk was giving them, he returned the gaze with a bitchface. Saying something would get them nowhere, however, so he simply paid for their stuff and took the bag when the man offered it. There was no telling what the man was ruffled over, that he was buying a dirty mag, that he was buying things for his friend, that... what? Really it didn’t matter, because people are allowed to think whatever they want.

"Well, open 'em up and tell me if you think they taste like a rainbow should or not," he said happily, nudging Castiel with his elbow to egg him on.

Castiel nodded, he still frequently ate burgers simply because he wanted to, while it offered him nothing but taste. He gathered his treats from the bag, completely oblivious to the look the clerk was giving him but turning back to him just before they walked out the door. "Stealing is wrong," the angel murmured. "Your employer wouldn't be happy with you." Having said his peace, he moved down the steps behind Sam, opening the bag with his teeth. Pocketing the piece of plastic, he fished out a few of the little pieces with his fingers.

Examining them carefully, interested by the hues of the pieces, green and red and purple, he popped them into his mouth and chewed as he looked up at the few stars visible in the sky. Raising his brows and blinking, he swallowed after a moment before peering into the pack and then up at Sam. "They don't taste like rainbows, they taste like very sweet fruits," he exclaimed, literal as always, before taking his tea and popping it open to take a sip. "This brand of tea is very good, would you like to try it?" he offered, holding it out.

Sam couldn't help but laugh at Castiel's expression and description of the candies. How appropriate for him. "Yeah... like I said, humans don't know what rainbows taste like, but we do know and love our fruits. Well, artificial flavorings for fruits at least." He nodded and took the offered drink from the angel, sipping at the tea experimentally. He'd often seen it in convenience stores, but had never tried it before. "Huh, you're right. That is good." Stealing another sip, he handed it back.

His own salad would have to wait until he got back to the hotel room.

Castiel nodded, more than happy to share with Sam, usually more than happy to share what he had with anyone. He smiled and emptied a few more candies into his palm and then took a sip of the drink, allowing the flavors to mix on his tongue. It was interesting

"In Heaven, did you ever feel like you were around the same angels for too long? Or wait... you got stationed watching over Earth, right? How long have you been just... watching for?"

Swallowing as Sam asked him about his brothers and sisters, the memories of his sins bled into his moment of happiness. Castiel looked down at his hands, staring quietly at them.

"I often felt like I was around those in my Garrison too long," he murmured, mind peeling off names of those dead and no longer with them. "We worked as we were told to, and have watched over humans since before they became the humans of today. Several thousands of years."

Shit. There he went opening his mouth without thinking again. Sam didn't even need to look at Castiel to realize he'd ruined the brief moment of happiness. Figures. "Yeah, that happens." Well, now that they were both perfectly miserable he saw the motel coming up from the darkness. Great. Time to face the piper.

When they were close enough to see their room, Sam noticed that the door was ajar.

"SAM? SAM!" Dean was yelling sounding angry and apprehensive, checking over the Impala, looking to see if any of the cars he'd noticed when they parked had been hotwired and stolen. Then he turned and locked eyes with Sam, not even noticing the angel. It was all too obvious that Dean had thought Sam had left, the silence inside the room stretching out for too long.

In a way, Sam was touched. He had worried that they'd passed even this. That if he left, Dean wouldn't care, would just call up Benny and hunt with him.

"Hey," he replied, somewhat awkwardly. "Went to the store to grab some grub..."

Dean's eyes shut down, emotions swiftly hiding under his iron clad self-control. "Oh, good..."

Both of them stared at each other for a few long moments before Dean nodded and turned to walk back into the hotel room, Sam trailing after him.

Castiel followed Sam in the door, most of him hidden by the larger human until Sam moved to the side. Clutching his candy in one hand and his drink can in the other, Castiel's eyes scrubbed over Dean, and the angel felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach to see those expressive eyes so upset. He'd been a large cause of it, and he wished there was a way to wipe it away.

"Hello, Dean," he said, swallowing roughly as he looked the elder Winchester over.

Eager to break the awkward silence, he thrust his hands straight out, both of them, offering the items selflessly. "Would you like Skittles or Tea? They're both sweet but the skittles taste like fruit, not a rainbow."

Dean looked over to Castiel, willing himself to put aside whatever was going on between him and his brother, to focus on the angel. "So... Fred do alright then?" He didn't give a flying fuck about Fred at this point, but it was something to say that didn't lead the conversation right back around to what he'd just been doing. That, and he didn't exactly feel like accepting anything from Cas right now.

Sam looked between the two of them and shook his head a little, saddened that Dean couldn't be more honest with either of them, and that he and Cas had no idea where to start. Slipping the magazine from his bag, he handed it to Dean. "Peace offering."

It took a few seconds for Castiel to realize that Dean wanted none of the items he offered to share. "Yes, Fred is fine," he replied, dropping his hands with a sense of rejection. Feeling a slight sense of Deja vu at the conversation about Fred as he moved to the bed he identified as Sam's; the angel wracked his brain for something, anything he could do. Sitting on the edge of it and setting his drink down on the nightstand, he watched Sam hand off the magazine and tried to offer a smile.

"Busty Asian Beauties," Castiel said with a nod, though it needed no clarification. "Sam said it would be alright if I rejoined both of you," he explained tentatively, before glancing around the room. His eyes settled on the television, and without thinking, he lifted his hand, turning it on and flipping through the channels one by one, settling on some animated movie he'd never seen before with several animals apparently stuck in an ice-age.

Dean looked down at the magazine and then back up at Sam and Castiel. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say, but he was a little touched by the gesture. "Yeah, got that, Cas," he replied with a very small grin, lifting the magazine slightly. And just like that half of the tension left the room.

"Yeah, Cas found a lady in white a few states over and asked if he could help us take her out. Learn a bit more about being a hunter..." Sam said, looking to see how Dean would take the idea.

"Oh?" Completely unfazed by the case, he nodded. "Well, he didn't do too badly last time around. So yeah. Why not."

Castiel gave a small nod of his own, feeling the air in the room grow less thick. Though the distrust wouldn't go away, at least some of the animosity had, and it was much easier for him to bear. The initial lack of empathy he'd felt for humans had flown out the window as he'd gotten to know the brothers, and he was glad that it had settled, at least a little, for this night. As Sam presented the idea to Dean, Castiel waited quietly for the verdict, and was relieved when Dean appeared to have no qualms about it.

Sam exchanged a look with the angel. "I call shotgun."

His eyes flicked to Sam, and he pursed his lips, before retorting good-naturedly, "Dean said I earned a ride in the front. I would like to redeem it."

Sam looked at Castiel like he'd grown another head. The passenger side had always been his seat. There was a law written down in the fabric of reality that stated just that. He was sure of it. However as he looked over to Dean, who simply shrugged as he turned the page, eyes never leaving the beauties, Sam felt that he'd already lost this battle. "Alright..." he muttered, "but just this once."

Off in his corner, Dean did his best to hide his chuckling as he slowly flipped through the magazine.

And as Sam sat down to eat his salad, he couldn't help but think that to all extents and purposes, this had gone rather well. Taking a bite, he smiled to himself. Rather well indeed.


	2. Lady in White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finds a hunt for the boys, but things start to go sideways.

Ashley Judd had been a normal woman, happy with her life, completely in love with her husband; at least, she had been before she'd found out about his affairs. Then she had gone to the overlook where he had taken her on their first dates, back when she was just a sweet, naive teenager, and she took her own life, releasing herself to gravity.

Castiel hadn't a clue who she was yet, but he had heard of the two murders up the mountainside. Local rumors of a beautiful woman who could sometimes be seen had led him to believe they were dealing with a lady in white.

Shifting in his seat at the local library as he was doing research, Sam sitting across from him, Castiel poured over the piles of newspapers in front of him diligently, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth. It had been two days since he'd joined the pair, and though he took his leave of them when they slept, he was otherwise in tow with one or the other.

"Sam," he said softly, rotating the paper and pushing it across the table, with the headline of a local woman's mysterious disappearance four years ago. "Do you think this could be something?" he asked.

Sam's head was swimming as he looked over what felt like the hundredth tome of articles, all wonderfully collected and collated for his benefit. Normally Sam loved research, finding it relaxing. He could always lose himself in the meaningless task. But not today. No, today he had a headache and the words kept swimming on the page until he blinked enough times that they stood still again.

However, when Castiel handed him a sheet of paper, he dutifully read over the account and smiled for the first time in hours. "Yeah... this... this could definitely be something." Pulling out his laptop from his bag, he typed in the name for a basic google search, which turned up pretty much the same information that the article gave. But then he hacked into the local police files and the top piece of information had his smile widening.

"Local woman never found, suspected suicide, femur found in canyon."

Castiel watched Sam, furrowing his brows. He'd been so engrossed in his work that he'd completely missed the hunter's discomfort. Feeling guilty again - he was an angel, he should notice these things -, he watched as Sam worked on the computer, a device that still slightly confounded him. But he wasn't thinking of the computer, he was thinking about Sam's hurt. Still, he waited as Sam smiled and searched, and chewed on his bottom lip again, nodding slowly.

"And we speak to her husband next, right?" he asked softly. "To confirm his infidelity." Reaching out with his hand, he set his palm on Sam's forehead, taking away the Winchester's headache quickly and easily.  "Please forgive me for not noticing you were in pain earlier," he said, before tucking his arm back under the table and just watching the hunter with his head tipped slightly to the side.

Sam had been more friendly to him the last few days than Dean had, not that he could blame the older Winchester. Dean was likely still feeling betrayed by his knowledge of what had happened in Purgatory.

"Yeah, we speak to the hus-" Sam stopped talking as Castiel removed his headache. It hadn't even occurred to him to mention the pain, as he'd spent so long trying not to accept anything from angels. After all, having Lucifer constantly telling him that he wanted to give him everything was more than enough to give him a small complex.

"Oh, thanks..." Chuckling, he rubbed the back of his neck. Well, not having a headache would certainly make it easier to focus.

"So yeah, let's see, where does the husband live." Typing in a few more commands into the police site, he came up with an address. "Looks like he should still be at 401 Lester."

Castiel stared at Sam with a straight face, blinking at the thanks. "There is no need to thank me, Sam. I just wish you had mentioned it earlier. Though I understand why you are hesitant," he said softly, glancing down at the table. He knew Sam probably didn't trust him either; after all, Castiel had been forced to break Sam's mind. He might have some trust issues if someone had done such a thing to him. Flexing his fingers and looking down, Cas continued to speak quietly.

"Should we pick up Dean again?" he asked quietly, his voice holding a hint of lingering  melancholy. "Or go straight there?"

"It's, not so much you," Sam said quickly. "It's just... Lucifer and..." He shook his head and dismissed what he was going to say. It didn't matter. "Just know that it's really not you. You might have broken my wall, but then you took it all away, onto yourself." Looking straight into Castiel's eyes, he smiled very slightly and said, "In my books, we're even."

And that was the honest truth. Castiel may have hurt him, but he and Dean had tried to get Death to kill Castiel, so it wasn't like anyone was blameless here. Hell, Dean had told Sam how Cas had practically begged for his help, but Dean had entirely disregarded it.

"Nah, Dean is at the police station asking about the latest murders, so we should leave him to that."

Not really reassured, but learning to mimic human emotions fairly well, Castiel offered a smile back. All three of them were so wounded, though alive and physically healthy. They all bore scars so terrifying that they would destroy lesser creatures. They had all be broken in their own ways. "If you say so," Castiel whispered, willing to let it drop as he reached out to set his hand over Sam's gently.

* * *

****

There was a moment of pure and complete white, accompanied by a soft warmth as he called upon his powers.  In an instant they were standing by the stop sign at the junction of Lester and Reed, and Castiel squinted in the bright sunlight, for a moment before his eyes adjusted. "He seems to be home," he commented, before dropping Sam's hand as an afterthought and beginning to walk.

Sam didn't have Dean's hatred of celestial travel, and perhaps that came with the memories of far more power coursing through him; of traveling distances that were comprised of far more than space and time. So when Castiel flew them from one point in space to another, folding reality itself from their perspective, he barely batted an eyelash. It was simply how things were done by vessels.

Vessels. Was Jimmy still in there?

When Castiel's hand dropped away belatedly, Sam reminded himself that he needed to be a professional and do his job, not worry about astral travel or the fates of men chosen by Heaven. Wasn't anything to be done anyways.

So he caught up to Castiel and ascended the stairs to Mr. Judd's home. Here goes nothing, he thought as he knocked on the door.

They reached the house without issue, and Castiel stood quietly as Sam knocked. At first, it seemed that the angel might be wrong, for a moment there was no response. And then there was the shift of floorboards and the sounds of boots crossing the floor. Several locks unclicked before the door opened, revealing a tired-looking, disheveled man, looking a bit more than half-drunk. The door opened only a crack as the man peered out at the two outside his door, squinting at them for a moment, a deep crease in his brow.

"If you're selling something, I don't want any. If you're trying to convert me, go to hell," he growled.

Castiel blinked several times before shaking his head. "God doesn't exist," he murmured, voice tight, "and we aren't selling anything."  

The man looked them both over again, and raised his brows.

"Then what the hell do you want?"

"We're here to ask you some questions, Mr. Judd." And Sam held up a badge, flashing it to back up the authoritative posture and tone of voice he'd adopted. "There have been several suspected murders at the same location where we believe your wife went missing from. We were just hoping that you could add anything to your previous statement that might help us." He sounded so official, even as he sneaked his foot forward so that the man wouldn’t be able to slam the door on them.

"Yeah, listen, now's not the best time for questions, which I answered more than my fair share the last time you came around. So how about you make like a tree and leave," Mr. Judd replied, slurring his speech ever so slightly.

But then there was a frightened moaning from inside the house and the man's eyes narrowed.

"Something you feel like telling us now?" Sam was suddenly all controlled rage and ice. He was never like this before, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d learned too well from Lucifer.

Castiel's eyes snapped up, steeling his jaw, absolutely, almost frighteningly, livid as he heard the moaning coming from behind the man. In half a heartbeat, he was gone, kneeling beside the poor woman inside who lay on the floor bleeding from a nasty cut on her temple which looked like it was from smashed bottle. Shards of glass lay scattered across the floor, and half of her blond hair was plastered to her head with blood that was still wet. He set a hand on her lower back, his voice soothing as it rolled out of him.

"It's alright, you're alright now," he breathed, pressing his palm to her forehead and healing her, pushing some strands of hair back from her face to get her to look at him. "Sam, he almost killed this woman," he called toward the door, letting Sam know just what he had found. Castiel ignored the man they had come to question, who had spun in complete surprise and was letting loose a string of venomous curses.

"Can you walk?” Castiel asked her as she cowered, offering her his hand. "I can take you away from this place."

Sam's eyes narrowed and his already low opinion of the man plummeted to subterranean depths. "Cas, get her to a hospital. I'll take care of this love bird." He felt the anger rising in him, a familiar sensation that never left him anymore. The anger was the greatest constant in his life now, moreso even than the soft, sweet call of the blood. "You think it's alright to beat women? You think that's acceptable?"

And damn it if Sam was never good at being the bad cop before, because now he had a reason to be angry and tower over this man. With every ounce of anger, he rushed the man and grabbed him by his collar, smashing him against the wall. His other hand shot out and collected the inebriated man's arms before he could use them against Sam, pinning them over his head. "So tell me, you have this habit for a while now? Did you beat your wife? Cheat on her? What? I don't believe that she just mysteriously disappeared, do you?"

Mr. Judd yelled back at Sam, spittle splattering across the hunter's face, "I didn't kill my wife. I didn't. That bitch took her own life. No way you can blame me for her fucked up lack of self-preservation."

Cas looked up at Sam as he was ordered to take her away and looked back down at a tear-streaked face and pleading eyes. The flutter of feathers accompanied the sounds of her sobs for a half-second before Castiel and the injured woman were gone. In the blink of an eye the angel was gone and then back again, in time to watch the man get slammed against the wall. Intense blue eyes stared the man down, though some concern was spared for Sam's emotional state.

He stepped up to the pair, much smaller than Sam, though his gaze was no less angry or threatening, and he leaned in close with a curl to his lip. "Do you have any idea where she might have taken her life? Records show her body was never found, and I couldn't find her either."

The incensed mortal pinned to the wall fixed his gaze on the angel and hissed out in response, "I. Don't. Have. A. Fucking. Clue. Get the hell off me, you fucking gorilla!" He hissed at Sam again, twisting roughly in the much stronger hunter's grasp. "Get out of my fucking house!"

"We come and find you assaulting a woman. I should take you down to the station right now, you..." Sam snarled out a slur that wasn't strictly English and his eyes darkened the slightest bit. "Now you answer my partner or so help me, I can't be held responsible for the state the paramedics will find you in." The anger was a rolling, boiling mass in the pit of his stomach, bubbling up and infusing everything it touched.

"What?" The strange word hit the man like a vial of truth serum, making his head swim and his mouth open instinctively. "I don't know, but she left a note. Cunt said she was going to go back to where it all started." He was blinking in surprise, terror replacing his anger as his mouth worked against him. "Back to the overlook where I took her on our first date. Lover's Plunge."

Sam drew in a breath that sounded more like a snarl. "You better be telling the truth." Releasing the man, Sam was almost surprised when he heard the man's feet connect with the floor again. In his anger, Sam had lifted the guy almost two feet into the air against the wall.

Castiel's head snapped to Sam as the word of power was used, blue eyes wide in surprise and concern. But his attention quickly returned to the man slowly being inched up the wall by his captured hands, and he listened intently, not willing to miss a thing. Still, his hand raised, fingertips coming to rest on Sam's lower back as a reminder, perhaps a warning, to not go too far. Surely Sam knew what he was doing, but his rage could be overwhelming at times. He needed to be grounded.

It was confirmed when the man spat out what he knew, and Castiel recognized the name of the cliff-face where the murders were occurring. A tiny thrill of pride wound through him, a sense of accomplishment he hadn't felt in a long time, and it frightened him. Pride had gotten him into so many messes before... Taking a deep breath as the man dropped to the floor, Castiel also dropped his hand, turning his gaze up to Sam as the man sputtered and tried to recover.

"It's the same place," he confirmed with an earnest nod, just in time to be decked by the drunken asshole who chose to take out his anger on the smaller of the two rather than the one who had just hauled him into the air with practically no effort. The angel stumbled back and then swung out a hand, touching the man on the temple with two fingers, watching him drop unconscious abruptly before he lifted his hand to his own face, rubbing at his jaw with a frown.

Sam should have seen the attack coming, should have deflected it; because, sure, Castiel didn't need to be babied, but you don't just dick with the people in Sam's life when he's around to do something about it. But Cas beat him to it, dropping the man so that he wouldn't be left with a black eye or a few less teeth in the morning. His pupils were flooded, light streaming into them in a way that was familiar and frightening at the same time. Taking a few breaths, he nodded to Castiel and turned, resisting the urge to kick the fallen man.

Pushing his feet into motion, he walked out of the house, the cool air washing over him like a cresting wave. It was good, so, so good. He took in a breath, expanding his chest as far as it would go, before he counted to five and let it back out. Slowly he felt his rage dissipate, noticed as the world came back into normal focus. If Dean would have seen him...

Thank goodness he was just with Cas. Hopefully the angel wouldn't press him for answers.

Answers that he'd never had.

"Well, shall we go check out that cliff?"

Castiel gingerly stepped over the body, following Sam out the door as he continued to rub at his jaw briefly. "You used a word of power," Castiel said in a low voice, glancing at Sam's back as he came to a standing rest beside him. His voice wasn't condescending or questioning, simply observational. "I didn't realize you could." He glanced back at the house they'd just left, thinking of the way the mortal had responded to it, instantly, before putting his fingertips on Sam's shoulder again.

Time and space collapsed briefly around them, giving them another moment of serene white, and then they were on a high ridge near a mountain top, wind whipping at them both, the air colder and thinner. They were mere feet from the edge. "I've searched the area around here before," he said softly. "While you slept. I found only a few bones, and fragments. I believe scavengers have consumed most of the body, scattered them," the angel muttered, dropping his hand once more.

Sam's body stiffened at what Castiel said. Anger always made him hazy, made his actions feel instinctual, separate, but he knew. Wished he could deny it, but it was true. However he didn't say anything, didn't acknowledge the truth and further solidify it. And he couldn't help the relief that flooded through him when Castiel didn't sound horrified or angry or... anything. Just an observation. He could handle observations.

Then they were at the cliff, the points where Castiel's fingertips had been the only warmth left in his body. Some days he wondered if he'd take his temperature and find it was dropping. "Yeah... sounds likely. So." Looking around, he paced slightly and tried to recreate what must have happened here. "So she comes up here to kill herself because of her husband, cheating, beating, whatever. And once she's here..."

The vision hit him hard, and the resulting migraine almost overpowered his resolve, so that he clenched his teeth to stay upright. Damn, without using his powers, they were building up too fast, too much. "She had a trinket in her hands... thought about throwing them away, but put them back on." He couldn’t see what they were, just indistinct shapes and a figure that looked as if it were made of mist, hurricane force winds burning everything they touched.

Castiel blinked and stood still as he watched Sam, furrowing his brows slightly as the tall hunter paced. His trench coat flapped wildly in the wind, and the cold air would have bitten his cheeks were he a mortal. His fingers flexed momentarily when he realized what was happening. Sam's psychic abilities were beginning to manifest again. He was having a vision. After the word of power, had it somehow jogged his abilities loose?

"Sam, are you alright?"

He stepped forward, wishing to aid his friend, but blinked as Sam described trinkets, blue eyes oscillating back and forth in their sockets. His brows raised slightly and he touched Sam's shoulder once more, trying to soothe and heal, though there was nothing to heal. "Earrings? Were they earrings?" Castiel asked gingerly.

Sam focused as best as he could on the vision, riding it out like a storm as the pain in his head intensified. "Earrings?" Yes, they could have been earrings. She lowered her head as she raised her hands up, and yes, she was putting the earrings back into her ears. Then she turned and her face was whipped away by the burning winds, her skin blackening and curling from the heat, but her eyes were perfectly visible as she stared into Sam's soul. "She was wearing them, wanted to throw them away, but they meant too much."

She smiled at him and then tipped herself backward off the ledge, arm almost reaching forward for some salvation that would never come. Still, Sam struggled forward to grab at her, but he was too late, always too late. Her body crashed again and again, bones breaking in her fall. Finally, she came to rest at the bottom and the vision vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, Sam's eyes stinging and his head rent asunder.

"They were small flowers, jewels... sapphires maybe?"

Castiel didn't realize his touch may have been unwelcome, but his fingers curled in Sam's jacket anyway as the man stepped forward to chase a woman who had left the world of the living years ago. He held him in place, locked still, just to make sure the man didn't accidently tumble over the edge of the cliff in his daze. Castiel just wanted to be sure that Sam would be safe. The angel could only imagine what might happen if he went back to Dean and had to apologize for letting Sam jump off a cliff after an apparition.

Slender digits slowly unfurled as the potential danger passed, and Castiel eventually dropped his hand again, thinking about how odd it was that he’d touched anyone so often as he had in the past few days. He tried once more, unsuccessfully, to rid the Winchester of his headache before tipping his head to the side at the description.  "Yes. I saw one before. I did not realize its relevance," Castiel uttered.

And as he did often, he was gone and back again within thirty seconds, the rocks at the bottom of the cliff rumbling as they settled after being moved by an unearthly strength. Castiel held his hand out, palm up, a set of dirty earrings resting in it, the stem of one bent at an odd angle. "These?"

Sam looked over the earrings wearily, making out enough details through the pain to nod. "Yeah, that's them." A thought struck him. "Do you know where Dean is?" The question was probably entirely worthless, seeing as they both still had the Enochian sigils, right? But it seemed like it was worth a try. "I... I'd rather he not see me like this. Could you check and see if he's back at the hotel?"

Maybe he'd be lucky for once; maybe Dean would still be out long enough for Cas to get them back to the hotel room and Sam could take a shower and collect himself, pound down some medication to take the bite out of the migraine. He couldn't believe he was still so weak against his powers. But these weren’t what he'd been using this past year, so it sort of made sense. It was all too much--like straining a muscle you hadn't used in too long, all while his body still needed to do something with the growing power under his skin.

And he really didn't want to explain any of this to Dean. Not after what had been said, not after how obvious it was that this would be just another disappointment, perhaps even a betrayal in Dean's eyes. After all, he'd never liked the powers, never trusted them.

And Sam hadn't even looked for Dean. He'd just...

"Cas... thanks. For all of this," he said quietly, wanting the angel to understand that this was something important. That all of this was more than anyone else had done for him in a long time.

Cas opened his mouth, but the weary expression on Sam's face actually made him shut it as he closed his fingers and incinerated the earrings in his palm. They turned to blackened dust almost instantly, and he dropped the ashes, watching them float away in the wind. He wondered if Dean would be upset that they had finished the case without him, all on their own, in under an hour once they'd found a viable lead. It would have taken hours to simply get around the town in the Impala, and Castiel was almost certain that Dean was probably still driving around in it, perhaps even on the same trail they had been.

It remained unspoken, and sometimes Cas was not quick when it came to such observations, but this time he knew that what had happened here today, Sam wanted to keep it between them. That made the Angel uncomfortable, but it was no business of his to tattle on Sam. What the brothers told one another was their business. Though Cas might have tried to function as a guiding hand in the past, that was no longer his purpose.

Castiel offered Sam a tiny smile, realizing that he was emoting more and more often these days as well, and gave a slight nod. When he spoke, his own voice was quiet, the only way he knew how to convey his own thanks. He'd nearly been lost a few days ago, just bare threads keeping him tethered to the world.

Sam watched the ghosts of emotions play over Castiel's face, and that was the final piece to a puzzle he hadn't even known he was completing. They had both changed, and, sure, Castiel might not be falling anymore, but he wasn't the angel they had first met. Not if those were real emotions. Part of him--the part that blamed himself incessantly--couldn't help but feel that they had brought the angel to this; but another small voice said that he couldn't take all the credit.

"Thank you for letting me sit with you." Then Castiel was gone, checking to see whether or not Dean was back at the hotel, returning in an instant once he’d gathered that he was not. Touching Sam, they were suddenly back in the cool, empty room. From his first disappearance, it had all taken the span of a breath.

* * *

 

When they reappeared in the hotel room he placed a gentle hand on Castiel's shoulder and gave a small squeeze. "Yeah, well, thanks for this. All of this. It's... it's good having you along."

And a small voice whispered in the back of his head that now that Castiel was just as broken as him, just as guilty as all the others, wouldn't he just make for the perfect addition to Sam's long line of fuck ups? After all, Sam had said yes to one angel.

He immediately dropped his hand and walked to the bathroom, determined to take a shower and block everything out for just a few blessed seconds.

Castiel had taken the madness, but Sam seemed to have a wellspring for the stuff. And a few splintered voices in his head wasn't the worst that could happen, right? After all, he wasn't seeing anything and things were going to stay that way. He just needed to not want to see anything again.

"I'm gonna take that shower now," he muttered to make his retreat seem less like just that.

Castiel blinked up at Sam as the hand settled on his shoulder, and actually reached with the opposite hand, setting the smaller one atop the other in a human gesture of affection and encouragement. He was glad that he could offer this broken friend at least a little peace of mind, even if it might be at the expense of another. Sam needed space and time to come to terms with his experiences, what had happened to him, what was happening still. Perhaps the angel still hoped to rebuild a little of the broken trust he had once had. He said nothing, simply patted the hand and sat on the edge of the bed as Sam went to the bathroom, flipping on the television to surf through the channels.

It occurred to him that it might be the right thing to do to call Dean, to let him know that the case was finished, to allow him to come back sooner and not waste any more time hunting. But he didn't, ignoring the phone in his pocket for the moment as if it didn't exist. Sam didn't want to see Dean right now, and Castiel had no idea how long it would take before Sam was alright with it. It also occurred to him that it would only make Dean angrier when he did find out they'd finished the case without him, but he would hope for the best.

He reached up idly to brush his shoulder gently, the feeling of Sam's touch still fresh as he stood guard over his friend in his own possibly misguided way.

Sam dragged himself into the shower, clothing still on as he turned on the cold spray and cranked the handle around so the water would heat up. For a long while he stood under the warming torrent of water, letting himself get soaked to the core before he finally disrobed, clothes falling in a wet slap against the floor of the shower.

It never ceased to amaze him, looking down at his body, that all the wounds from his life, from before that last time he'd been resurrected, were simply gone. Part of him mourned their loss, the loss of the physical history they had written on his skin. But the wounds and scars he was left with would never disappear, all the ones under the flesh, in his heart, in his head.

Water pounded against him, white noise blissfully helping to clear his thoughts. Yeah, he could believe he had no past, he could slip back into...

No. Sam couldn't let himself entertain that thought, not now that Dean was back, and especially now that Castiel was with them, searching for something to believe in. He could see the hopelessness that had been reflected in Cas' eyes when they'd talked, and he knew that they were both so terribly lost. Hell, Dean seemed the most put together of the three of them, and he was different, changed after Purgatory. He was probably still blaming himself for thinking Cas had died in Purgatory, and inadvertently leaving him behind.

So yeah, they were all pretty messed up. Story of their lives, really.

He lost himself in the simple act of washing off, scrubbing himself with almost a religious ferocity. Some day, some day he'd get clean. He had to believe that, no matter how much it hurt, it was simply written into the fabric of his very being that he would always hold out the smallest hope for redemption.

Maybe all monsters did.

As the minutes ticked by, one by one, Castiel simply sat and stared at the TV. He watched at first, listened half-heartedly; but soon he was lost to the world, blue eyes unfocusing slowly as the careful webbing he had laid over his own thoughts began to drift undone, thread by thread. This released them all, so very like Pandora’s box, leaking out of their cages like a poisonous black ooze washing through him, his blood, his mind, corroding the very core of his being further. The hum of the water in the room served as no distraction, and the angel's hidden wings drooped. There was no one to keep the mask up for right now. Self-loathing was a part of Castiel now, something he had no control over, and it sought to destroy him. It would succeed one day, this he knew, without a doubt. He had forsaken his brothers and had been, in turn, forsaken.

He had nowhere else to go, not a soul to turn to except for these two humans for whom he would willingly give his own life. Castiel could only hope that they didn't grow tired of his presence, his constant questions, his inability to emote like one of them. He had considered them his charges at one point, but that had changed somewhere along the way, and he had begun foolishly hoping for more--half hoping he just didn't have to remain so desperately alone, and half hoping that they would cut him off completely so he no longer had an excuse not to end it. But would it end even if he tried? He'd died thrice, and had been dragged from Purgatory against his will. Was it possible that eternal life was his own version of Hell? All these thoughts and more bound him tightly, making him feel as if were suffocating, as they often did when he dwelt on them and soon the angel's head and shoulders were bowed again.

Sam finished his shower and hung his clothes to dry on the shower bar, slightly irritated with himself for being so weak, for being so thoughtless. So he toweled off his hair until it wasn't dripping anymore and then wrapped the towel around his waist. Opening the door to the main room, he was caught in a convergence as the warmth rushed out of the bathroom and cold rushed in from the room, and he shivered convulsively. Focused as he was on grabbing some new clothes, he didn't notice Castiel's mood right away. However, he wasn't to be given the chance as the door of the hotel room was opened as he slipped on a shirt.

Dean closed the door behind him with a satisfied smirk on his face. "So I think I might have figured out the name of our Lady in White."

Oh... right. Sam's expression fell as he finished pulling down the hem of his shirt, until it just overlapped with the top of his towel. He needed pants on to have this conversation. Grabbing a pair of pants and underwear he retreated momentarily to the bathroom.

"No one curious as to who she is?" Dean asked, sounding crestfallen.

Yup, this was going to be wonderful.

Castiel managed to dredge himself quickly enough from the mire of his mind, lifting his shoulders and giving Dean a smile, watching the steam float through the air as it escaped from the bathroom. He stood, rolling his shoulders to assume a stance that seemed unaffected as he turned to the elder hunter.

"Her name was Ashley Judd. She died four years ago. It was a suicide after she found out her husband was having an affair. He may have also been beating her. The items that she was attached to were a pair of sapphire earrings in the shapes of flowers that he had given to her, which she wore when she jumped to her death off of the 'Lover's Plunge' cliff formation." Castiel said smoothly, feeling another sliver of the sin called pride slither down his spine. "They've been destroyed."

When Sam emerged from the bathroom, properly attired for this conversation, he saw something flit through Dean's eyes before the shutters slammed closed. No, not now. So much of him wanted to be angry at Dean, the hurt and pain still raw and tender, but he'd hoped...

Silly of him.

"Wow. You guys really did your leg work," Dean said, his voice stiff. Ok, so it was stupid to get angry that his brother, with the help of a freakin' angel, was able to finish this case in a few hours, but. "That's great. Just great." He couldn't help that he felt oddly betrayed, because that's what Cas and Sam did. They had both turned against him before, and now the damn conspirators were turning towards each other? When had they gotten so chummy?

Sam walked over, a quiet voice saying that if he could just apologize hard enough it could fix everything. But sorry didn't cut it, never had. The anger was there, just under the surface, howling that Dean shouldn't hold this against him. So when he opened his mouth, it wasn't all that surprising that the wild rage was the voice that came out, quiet and ice cold. "Yeah, it is great. Now no more people will die just to spare your ego."

And DAMN IT! That was not what he'd meant to say at all. It was harsh and so perfectly cold.

Why was he still so cold? Couldn't living outside for almost three years have finally warmed him again? But, compared to the Cage, three years was nothing.

Even with his recent development of emotions, Cas could see Dean shut down as he often did these days. He could feel the sarcasm, the hurt emanating from the older hunter, and it was exactly as he feared. Mirroring Dean, Castiel all but shut down as well, slamming a clamp on his emotions that thinned his lips and straightened his back and shoulders. It was impulsive, instinctive, and effective. He might have been able to play it off, to pretend he didn't understand, to act as if he thought Dean was proud of him. It would be easy, so easy, to let Dean work through the first angry impulses by himself, to calm down enough to think rationally about the good they had done.

But Sam was by his side then, tall and strong and just as angry as his brother. Castiel hoped desperately that Sam would say nothing, or if he did, say something that might soothe Dean. What came out was neither, and made Castiel's stomach drop like the anvil from Fred's case. His eyes widened slightly in consternation and he held out a hand quickly, as if to stop both parties from speaking further.

"No. No more people will die, that is the only thing that matters," he said, speaking in tones that were as soothing as he could muster. "I apologize, Dean, if it upsets you," he breathed, apologizing for both he and Sam and hoping Dean would accept it. "It was simple and quick..." Castiel paused a moment, and then shouldered the blame completely, sticking his neck out with a lie. "I insisted we continue once we had the information. I was over-exuberant again. I wanted to see if I could do it," he explained, offering Sam a slight nod and Dean an apologetic smile.

Dean whirled on Castiel, finger pointing at him furiously. "You stay out of this. Sam knew better." Turning his gaze to Sam he asked, "Were you in physical danger? Were you going to die if you didn't burn the earrings right then?" The silent condemnations were the worst though.

Couldn't you have included me? No, because Sammy has so many secrets he's hiding that he's forgotten how to hunt together anymore.

Sam took a minute to whisper towards Castiel before lightly pushing him out of the way. "Thanks for trying, Cas." But we need this. "Dean..."

His older brother interrupted him before he could get more words out. "No, don't, just don't, Sam. You've been hiding things since the minute I got back, because I refuse to believe that a dog and a chick were enough to so turn you around. So what's going on, because even right now you're shaking like a leaf." It didn't quite look like the demon blood, but whatever was going on, Sam felt wrong.

"Dean!" And all that pain that he'd been trying to keep pushed down just kept trying to engulf him, the anger the only thing that kept him afloat. "Damn it, Dean. What I went through for a year? What I've been lying about? What about you? You told me that Cas hadn't made it, told me that..." He couldn't drag out that pain again, not with how fresh it still was. "Then you used Amelia's phone to pull me from a case? Yeah, you've obviously got the moral high ground here."

The punch was entirely unexpected as Dean decked Sam, laying him flat. Dean's shoulders were heaving with exertion as he tried not to straddle Sam and just keep pummeling. Pointing his finger at Sam, he continued his tirade, "And it's a damn good thing I did to! You think Benny would have just let you kill him? You think I want to have to choose between you two?" He shut his mouth, apparently not far gone enough to not realize what he'd just said.

Those words shattered what was left of Sam's hope for himself and Dean, eyes suddenly lifeless as he gazed up, and whispered, "But you did, Dean..."

Castiel's mouth snapped closed involuntarily as Dean gave him a direct order, and then he felt an indignant anger welling inside of him that he'd actually followed it. He'd been spoken to like he was a child, and now Dean stood there berating Sam for doing the world some good, despite all his trials and all his pain. Something fierce and hot and new flared through him, protective and incendiary. He understood that Dean hurt, but to take it out on his brother over something so trivial was beyond ridiculous.  Couldn't Dean see that Sam was trying? Couldn't Dean see that this was not something to fight over?

Apparently not. And Sam, dear Sam was thanking him for trying, when he shouldn't be trying he should be doing. He was an angel and he couldn't even stop an altercation between two mortals.

He felt emotional pain so deep that it wrapped right back around into physical, choking him, spreading through his breast like a sickly parasitic vine. It froze him in place, as effective as any angel oil circle. He felt almost dirtied by hearing this, hearing their secrets laid bare, and when the elder socked the younger, laying him out on the cheap carpet, that new thing inside Castiel roared to life. He stepped between the both of them, breaking their eye contact, and looking at Dean with narrowed eyes.

"You're both hurt. Both of you suffer emotional wounds that I cannot heal. I have seen enough mortals in my lifetime bring harm to one another over next to nothing. I cannot tolerate the two of you bringing physical harm upon each other," he muttered, rotating to face Dean completely, looking almost like a raptor mantling protectively.

Sam rolled over onto his side and slowly got up to his feet as Castiel berated them, chastising them for so much more than just the way they were acting now. Well, that was certainly what he needed, some impartial force to tell him he was a childish idiot. Okay, he didn't need to get snippy about it, even here in his own mind where no one could hear him.

Castiel had a point, a valid one.

So Sam stood up, much mollified. "I..." There was nothing he could think to say.

Dean however, still had fight left in him, although the flaming rage was gone from his eyes. "Yeah, sure, Cas. " He turned to look Sam in the eye. "Just tell me one thing, what are you hiding, Sam? You don't want to be on the road with me, I get it, but don't you think for a second that I can't tell there's something to all of it." And if he had stripped the residual anger away, all that would have been left was a hollow pain.

"I'm..." Sam couldn't bring himself to lie, so he just lightly pushed his way past them both. "I'm going out to get some air." With that, he was gone and out the door running, needing the physical exertion to help clear his head that was still pounding from his migraine.

"Yeah." Dean looked at the door for a long time. "That's what I thought." Then he slowly turned to Cas and he pushed his mask back on. "Cas, do you know?"

Castiel stood quietly but firmly, wondering if he might be on the receiving end of another punch that day, but no such blow came. Instead he felt like he'd only made things worse, when all he'd meant to do was keep them from beating each other senseless. He felt sick, disgusted by his ineffectiveness, and the set of his shoulders slowly drooped as Sam stood up and decided to leave without saying more. He watched after the younger Winchester quietly before looking back at Dean, unease in his eyes as he was directly addressed once more.

Glancing after Sam with furrowed brows, he sidestepped the question easily enough, having learned to lie and keep secrets when he'd been working with Crowley.

"You and he should attempt to have a civil conversation. You are brothers, and your bond is stronger than most; I've seen it for myself, how much you care for one another. Yet you lie and keep secrets from each other, knowing they will hurt, but do not seem to understand that you are feeding the infection growing between you. You must cleanse the wound thoroughly before it can begin to mend," Castiel whispered, his voice dropping low, his demeanor buckling slowly with exhaustion.

"Who says we... I want to keep a connection with him?" Dean asked defensively, even though he was the one who had stubbornly refused to process the idea that Sam had stopped hunting, would stop hunting. When he'd first emerged from Purgatory, he'd needed Sam by his side to feel grounded, to let him know that the nightmares and the hypertension and the PTSD were just that--symptoms of returning to a world where he no longer fit.

And Sam had been where he'd always fit before.

"Cas, I get that you're trying to help, but, can you honestly tell me that Sam and I have ever been anything but a horrendous mistake?" John had drilled it into his head that he was to protect Sammy, no matter what, even from himself. In the end, Dean hadn't been able to do it, he hadn't killed Sam when he should have, and this was what he got for it. He got to watch Sam pull further and further away from him, and he was just a tired soldier who had tried to live another life and it hadn't worked. So whoop-de-doo that it worked for Sammy; good on him that, once again, he hadn't needed Dean.

Dean stared long into the angel's eyes before shaking his head. "He'll come back..." He said gently, more so to himself than Castiel, more out of habit than any need. "He'll come back..."

"I do, if you won't admit it. You're both here, are you not? You both continue to fight to be with one another, Dean. Can you not see that?" The angel asked faintly, sagging even further. Castiel's voice actually broke with his next words, for he saw so much of his own story in theirs. There were so many parallels, and Castiel's story had ended in grief and unimaginable suffering for those he had once loved. He would give anything to keep it from happening to the only two beings he had left.

"Family is... supposed to stick together, Dean, through the good... And the bad. I don't... I c-can't... see what happened to me happen to you. Or Sam." He'd betrayed his own brothers and sisters, been betrayed by them. He'd given everything, absolutely everything for Sam and Dean, and he was still failing. He couldn't protect them, everything was crumbling, and his heart, what was left of it, was being cut into a million pieces with their emotional shrapnel.

He couldn't tell Dean that Sam would come back, couldn't offer him the reassurance he may have been able to once. It chafed and stung, and the angel was so tired, so tired of hurting.

With a flutter of wings, Castiel was gone, though not far. He ended up in the back seat of the Impala, with his head buried in his hands, praying silently to a God that he knew would not answer him. Even angels begged for miracles once in awhile.


	3. Carry On, Wounded Soldiers, Carry On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam talk, but it's Sam and Castiel who have the heart to heart.

Sam came back a few hours later, drenched in sweat and rain, absolutely soaked to the bone. He stopped just outside the door to the hotel room, hand hesitating as it hung in the air. The reasonable side of him said that he needed to push the door open, apologize for the portion of this that was his fault, maybe even come clean to Dean about everything. His Winchester training told him to get back in there, apologize to Dean, and never bring it up again; because Dammit Sam, you listen to Dean when I'm gone. One very small portion of his mind whispered that he should turn around and leave, go find the comforts he knew were still available to him elsewhere.

He blocked out the last voice.

In his emotional struggle outside the door, he saw a familiar trench coat and head of black hair in the back seat of the Impala. Walking over on silent feet, he opened one of the back doors and bent over to peer inside. "Cas? You... you okay?" When he got no response, he slipped inside next to the angel and closed the door behind him. "I'm... I'm sorry you had to be in the middle of that, but, thank you. For trying."

Castiel had spent hours in something close to a stupor, alternately fighting the urge to laugh maniacally at his plight, or simply allow himself to break down into broken sobs. The latter didn't appeal to him but seemed more and more likely by the day. Even an hour was a small eternity. It always amazed him how the passage of time seemed to change with one's mood, and no matter how old he was, it would always amaze him. The patter of rain on the roof was depressing, the world as grey and dull as he felt his future would be.

His eyes remained blank as Sam opened the door; the angel was so lost in the thorn-filled labyrinth of his own mind that Sam had half a sentence out before he managed to bring the world back into focus. The hunter was here with him, in the car, warm and alive, even if he hurt. Slowly, Castiel's eyes swept up, focusing on Sam's face, taking in every feature and committing it to memory. How much more tired would Sam look when this was all over? If it ever ended. He might as well remember this moment if it was all downhill from here. Gently, he unfolded his hands from where they'd been tucked into fists under his chin.

"Don't thank me for trying," he said hoarsely. "I failed. Again. I do not deserve thanks for it," he finished quietly, swallowing hard as he tried to gather himself.

"It's not about failing or succeeding, Cas. It's all about trying. Shows you care enough to not give up on us," Sam replied, unsure how one went about comforting an angel. For all the naivety and clumsy fumblings when Castiel tried to understand humanity, there was a depth to his eyes, an age, that reminded Sam that this being was older than the entire human race. It would be no easier for him to understand angels than it was for Castiel to understand humans.

Except that Sam did understand. Or at least he understood a fallen angel, and knew far more than any other human would ever be able to comprehend about the fathomless angels, including the wearied soul in front of him.

"Cas, look at me for a sec." Sam reached out to rest a hand on Castiel's shoulder, light, so very light a touch. "It was never your job to save us. I mean, hell, you were only ever sent to take care of Dean, the Righteous Man, right? So the fact that you care at all about me, about Dean’s and my relationship... that's something I will never forget. Something that I will always be amazed by. I don't..." He still remembered the way they had called him an Abomination, had not deemed him with enough value to even shake his hand. No, they had come a long way since then.

"So listen. If there's ever anything I can do for you, you just say the word. I know I'm no great hero, and I screw up just about everything I touch, but... you deserve to know that I will always be here if you need anything." Maybe that was hypocritical, when he wouldn't turn to Dean, barely turned to Cas, when he had his own problems; but still, it needed to be said.

It almost sounded exactly like the things Castiel said to the younger Winchester earlier about being good. That as long as Sam continued to do the right thing, he was good. It comforted him in ways he couldn't explain to know that though thousands of years of completely different lives lay between them, the same logic still applied for both human and Angel. It was an unlikely similarity, but he couldn't be more grateful for it. It told him that he wasn't alone; even after all his failures and mistakes, all his hubris and humiliation.

He lifted his head as Sam coaxed him to, meeting those eyes again as he was physically reached for, physically reassured, if only slightly. Sam's eyes were so kind, so caring that no matter what anyone else thought, no matter what Sam thought, Castiel knew that the soul that lit them was a good one underneath, despite all that had happened. It was right that he had strived to save that soul, which shown in a way unlike any other.

He wanted to thank Sam again, but his voice had finally given out. His body refused to make a peep. Instead, he did something his wife had done often when he was with her, during the time that he had thought himself Emanuel, and simply shifted slightly, leaning over to rest his cheek on Sam's shoulder and looked out the front window of the car at the rain that continue to pour down. He had learned, or at least believed, it was a sign of trust and affection; and considering he lacked the energy to speak, it would have to do.

Sam watched as some of the darkness and depression eased out of Castiel, and while the angel was clearly still tired, he had lost the defeated air about him. When Castiel leaned over and rested his head on his shoulder, he couldn't help but think that Castiel was all the more special in his brokenness; that perhaps falling wasn't something damning at all, but merely the grace by which their Father had allowed the angels to finally exercise their free will, finally have emotions. Perhaps those were not the blessings that humans lauded them as, but in this still moment, he thought maybe they were.

Wrapping a gentle arm around the angel, he stayed like that for a long while, staring out the front windshield into the sheets of rain. There really wasn't anything to say.

They weren't completely broken, battered though they may be, and it was so good to just sit there, just be together.

The angel stayed silent, able once more to enjoy the sound of the rain instead of finding it loathsome and lonely. Sam's arm came about him in a way he had never experienced before, and for the first time in a very, very, long while, he felt close to safe. He felt protected, glad to have recognized a soul so similar to his own. No angel had ever wrapped their arms about him in such an embrace, and while his wife had hugged him at times, it was completely different from this. His love for her had been born of his being grateful, thankful to her, and it wasn't nearly as unfathomable as this newly forged bond between him and Sam.

He felt empathy for Dean, had always felt empathy for Dean, but he understood Sam.

So he listened to the pattering of the rain, the cadence of Sam's heartbeat, the soft sighs of his breathing, and for a moment Castiel found a serene sort of beauty in the world, a song that soothed his bone deep weariness. He imagined it was a lot like sleeping.

Finally though, his thoughts drifted back to his brother, and now that some of his anger and stubbornness had been washed away by the rain, he couldn't help but feel the overpowering need to make things right, to be the brother Dean deserved. Dean always made him want to be more, better than he was. After all, Dean had given up everything for him, so shouldn't he do the same?

He wasn't ready to tell the whole truth yet, but he could confide some things, enough to put the man at ease.

So he squeezed Castiel before pulling his arm away. "Come on, Cas. It isn't fair to leave Dean all alone. I need to go... make this right." Or as much as I can.

When Sam pulled his arm away, Castiel felt suddenly exposed again; already the loneliness was creeping back, and Sam was only mere inches from him. But he found the strength to put his tiny smile back on, he found the strength to make his voice obey, and he nodded. They were already damp, the short walk wouldn't do them any damage, but for the sake of convenience, he used his powers, depositing them both, side by side, on the edge of Sam's bed.

Sam blinked when they were suddenly inside, and he squeezed Castiel's hand quickly in thanks, and to gather together his strength as he looked at Dean who was sitting at the small table with a bottle of what looked to be Jameson and an unreadable expression. Letting go of the angel's hand, he took a few tentative steps toward Dean, stopping only when his brother looked up and took notice of his reappearance, even if he didn't look directly at Sam.

"Looks like you got a bit wet out there," Dean commented idly.

"Needed to cool my head," Sam replied, and the tension between them was still so thick as to be palpable. "Listen, Dean, I..."

Dean held up a hand and shook his head. "No. You're right. I did make a choice. I chose Benny over you, because he was there when you weren't. And I shouldn't hold that against you, but I do. We're not gonna be shitting rainbows and having everything go back to normal, but..." He took a breath. "I'll be willing to try if you are." Letting go of the bottle, one finger uncurling at a time, he finally looked at Sam. "I just need one thing from you."

The words stung and Sam wanted to run or get angry or do anything to block it out, but he forced himself to listen. "What?" He managed to choke out the word, suddenly finding it hard to speak past the fear in his throat that if he couldn’t give it, he would finally lose Dean. He wasn't an idiot, he could see how thin the thread connecting them was, how tentative the bond.

"I need you to promise me--promise--that you will tell me what really went on when I was in Purgatory." As if he could sense that Sam would need to counter that, he held up his hand for silence. "Maybe not now, but not too long either, eh?"

Sam forced himself not to break eye contact, not to look away or lie or run. "Yeah, I can... I can do that."

"Need to hear the words, Sammy."

"I promise you that I'll tell you the whole story when I'm ready."

Dean held out the bottle and searched for something in Sam's eyes. "I'll hold you to that."

The angel that had once been unfeeling and aloof curled his fingers around Sam's briefly, offering back a bit of the comfort he'd taken in the leather back seat of the impala, a new fondness for the gesture of physical reassurance. It was a connection that only solidified and strengthened the emotional one he felt. He let Sam's hand slip away as the taller of the two moved toward the one that drank far too much to be healthy, and tried his best to seem present but unobtrusive. He studied the patterns the dampness had made on Sam's jacket quietly, took in how much of the bottle Dean had already gone through... Though he half expected this to blow up again almost instantly, he realized after a moment that they were attempting to apologize, to extend offers of trust to one another, albeit tentative ones.

Had his words had anything to do with it? Had the emotionally aloof elder Winchester taken his words to heart? Hopefully, he listened to the exchange of words, Dean admitting his faults and his fears, expressing some of his feelings truthfully, asking for truth in return, but not forcing the issue. It was almost too much to hope for, and the angel felt his knees give a little with relief. It wasn't much, but it was something.

It was a start. Maybe God was listening after all, because who else could get these two broken brothers to be civil and kind with one another? He couldn't possibly take credit; he was a failure in every sense. Either way, it did the angel good to see these small steps, and he felt the burden on his shoulders lightening just a tiny bit and a thing called Hope waking from the deep slumber it had gone into long ago.

The corner of his lip turned up, and the angel stayed where he was on the bed, still not wishing to intrude lest his presence be considered unwelcome. Rubbing each of his palms slowly with the opposite thumb, he debated on simply leaving for the night so that they could talk in private.

"Alright, now go bury yourself in your laptop and leave me to watch Dr. Sexy in peace," Dean finished. Just because he understood that he'd lose Sam if he kept pushing too hard didn't mean that things would suddenly be peachy. No, he needed time to ready himself for when Sam would eventually deign him worthy of divulging the truth.

Dean wasn't sure why, but he just knew he wasn't going to like it.

"Yeah, sure thing," Sam replied a little sullenly, trying his best not to let it be obvious that he was hurt by the almost curt dismissal.

Baby steps. They just had to take baby steps.

Walking back over towards Castiel, Sam nodded and smiled gratefully at him. There was no doubt in his mind that if Castiel hadn't intervened, they would have either gotten into a much worse fight or parted ways, again. "So, what are your plans, Cas?" he asked quietly, wondering if the angel was going to fly off somewhere or if he was going to stick around for a while longer. It was oddly comforting to have Castiel being a semi-permanent staple in his life; while he had been something of a guarantee during the Apocalypse, there was this new sense that Castiel was here as much for him as Dean. Much more so than before, even though he knew how hard Castiel had fought to keep him safe from Lucifer.

Castiel continued to sit silently until Sam moved toward him again with a smile, taking a small breath and once again mirroring it. He was getting better at this human thing. At least he thought so. The boys weren't fighting, they had come to a small truce, and Castiel relished the small peace, the small victory. They came far too infrequently these days. He stopped worrying at his palms for the time being before standing, looking them both over once more before his lips parted in answer.

"I... I have no idea," he admitted, glancing at the floor. Should he go? Should he stay? "Perhaps a meal?" he said softly, the question open to either of them. "But if you're tired, I can go," he added. That was funny. He had nowhere to go, and angels didn't need to sleep. He looked up at Sam hesitantly, remembering the warm arm around him, the comfort he'd gained from it. He wanted more of that; but he didn't know the protocols for asking for such a thing, so he tucked it away and simply floundered.

"Don't expect me to budge from this spot," Dean piped up as he settled down onto his bed, fluffing a pillow against the headboard. He was going to watch Dr. Sexy and nothing was going to pull him away from the television for the next hour.

Sam exchanged a look with Castiel and shrugged. "Are you hungry, Dean?"

"Chinese," was all his brother replied, eyes already glued to the television in anticipation for his show.

"Alright, Chinese it is." Sam went and perched on the edge of his bed, pulling his laptop over and booting it up so he could see if there were any Chinese places around. It was already dark out, but it wasn't late, the winter sun retreating much sooner than Sam ever cared for. "Well, it looks like there's a place half a mile away, and they deliver." Turning his attention from the screen to Castiel, he asked, "Do you want to go there and order, or should I just call and order take out?"

Nodding, the angel was going to take Dean's remark as a dismissal, ready to leave before Sam spoke up again. Chinese. Castiel already knew every Chinese restaurant close by, but he let Sam look anyway, his own eyes darting up to the television as the show came on. Minutes later, Sam asked him a question, and the angel refocused on the younger of the brothers as he strung the words together in his head.

"I can go there if you like," he offered gently, slowly. "It's not far." He wondered if the rain had stopped yet, and his thoughts darkened a bit. Maybe he should walk there. The walk with Sam had done well for him a few days ago. But he'd been distracted by Sam then, and he didn't particularly want to be alone.

"If you both tell me what you would like, I can retrieve it."

As tired as Sam was from his long run from earlier, he felt it would still be good to get out and talk to Castiel away from Dean. So he closed the lid and shook his head, "Nah, I'll come with you. It can be hard to know what to order if they don't have our first choices." Turning to Dean he called out, "Mongolian beef, right? Or Almond Chicken?"

Dean gave Sam a thumbs up without dragging his eyes away from the screen where Dr. Sexy had just had a vial of biohazard spilled on his cowboy boots.

"Right..." Sam quickly hurried past the television, trying his best not to obscure Dean's view. Then he opened the door and stepped out into the dark night. Thankfully, the rain from earlier had stopped, and all that remained were a few puddles and the smell of freshly dampened earth.

Castiel nodded sedately, having not thought about that possibility before, and Dean didn't seem to pay any mind to the question his brother posed. What an illogical answer between two choices. He supposed that meant either was okay. Turning and harnessing his powers to simply move himself outside, he watched Sam come down the stairs. It would be easier to speak this way, without Dean getting upset at their conversation topic, or their interruptions.

Taking a deep breath of the humid air, the angel began walking, his steps matched to Sam's. "Will you tell him?" he finally started, his question non-judgmental. "You cannot help that your powers are stirring again. Is there reason for that, that you may know of?"

Sam closed the door behind him silently and then jogged down the stairs, legs protesting slightly but nothing serious enough to keep him from the mile round trip. He couldn't help but smile a little when he saw Castiel was already down on the ground floor waiting for him. However the smile disappeared when he heard Castiel's question.

"It's not quite that simple... I mean, my powers didn't exactly just come back today for no reason. That's, uh, kind of the problem. I..." He started walking out towards the main street, eyes focused far away. "I'll tell him eventually. I've just been trying to ground myself again. You see, this past year, I... was stuck in my own mind... kind of."

He didn’t explain more than that, didn’t want to go into the details and pull down the careful wall that he'd been building between him and this past year, one brick at a time. How he wanted to be able to confide in someone, to ask questions and see if any of this was in any way normal, because to him it seemed pretty far from that. It seemed pretty far from good too.

Brown brows came together in concern as Sam spoke, and the angel blinked but said nothing until Sam was done speaking. He'd fallen in step with the man easily enough, having to stretch his vessel's stride to keep up. Puddles that he stepped in didn't seem to wet his clothing now, he was no longer in the dejected state he had been before, where he hadn't cared enough to keep his clothes from being soiled.

When he realized Sam wasn't going to offer any more than that, he was torn between needing to know, and wanting to respect the Winchester's need for space. Dean already pushed too hard, he didn't want to also.

"Stuck in your own mind? Like Fred, or was it like the madness?" he finally asked gingerly, believing Sam would stop him again like he had before if he didn't want to discuss it.

Sam was silent for a long while, so long that it would seem he had dropped the subject, but finally he cleared his throat and began speaking tremulously. "I created a reality for myself, and I think there were times when it reached out and affected reality, but that's kinda hard for me to be objective about. I hit a woman walking her dog. She survived, but was in a coma for a long time. Her dog survived, too, so I took care of it while she was in the hospital. I would go in with her dog every day and visit her, hoping she'd wake up. At least, that's what I've been able to piece together for what really happened."

There was a pain and guilt so deep that his voice was almost drowned by it. "But in my mind, well, let's just say that's not what I thought happened. I thought I had just hit a dog, that she was a veterinarian who I took him in to see. And she told me to buck up and take responsibility for my actions, to stay in the town and help the dog recover."

He looked over at Castiel with eyes that were searching for something solid, for redemption. "Eventually there were... inconsistencies and my mind started to deny the world I'd built for myself. But by then I'd subconsciously been using almost all of my powers to sustain my reality. I... I compelled her into believing it too." Clenching his hands, he looked down and took a deep breath, "I only finally left, set her free, when I had a vision that Dean was alive at Rufus' old cabin."

The angel dropped the subject and continued to meander along in silence. He couldn't blame Sam for his mistrust, if that was what it was, and had already come to terms with the fact that Sam may not wish to discuss certain things with anyone. He was genuinely surprised when Sam spoke again, weaving a tale that was almost horrifying. It would have been if Castiel couldn't understand it. And he could, at least a little. The horror of doing something so wrong, the only thoughts in your head about making it right. Sam was like Fred, not even safe from himself, his powers building a world where he didn't have to face the truth.

So Sam's life with Amelia hadn't existed, or rather, only partially existed, and most of the world and story had been manufactured. Castiel felt an enormous wave of something close to pity wash over him.

"I see," he whispered. "That's not healthy, Sam, but I can understand. Pain and guilt can be... overwhelming... sometimes. I will keep close watch over you from now on if you believe you may be beginning to experience such a scenario again." He had nothing else to devote his time to.

"That's just it though, Cas. I... I had no idea I was doing it, no idea I was capable of doing that," Sam replied, whirling around to look at Castiel because now that he had started talking about it, he felt like he might drown because of it. "I thought that when you had taken it all away the first time that I was done. And then with Fred..." At the mention of the old man, Sam's eyes shut down and he closed off enough that he could control himself again.

"So now you can see why I haven't exactly wanted to talk to Dean about all this. He had a hard enough time when it was just all in my head. But now? Now I wake up and think something is different from reality, and it might just be different." He knew he would go crazy if things continued like this, completely incapable of deciphering reality from fantasies. "And what if I do more than compel someone to do what I want or live in my dream world? What if I somehow unlock Lucifer or alert all the demons and angels that I'm some sort of... reality generator?"

Ok, so maybe that was a bit too lofty of a fear, but it was thoughts like this that plagued him all the time now. With his subconscious use of his powers, even just in part, for that year they were all getting so much stronger. At times he found himself almost willing his bag to him from across the room, or turning to tell Dean to shut up with full intent to persuade him.

"But, thank you," he finished with heartfelt earnestness. "I would really appreciate that." Even though it felt like too much to ask when Castiel had been the one to take away his madness last time around, much to his own detriment.

"The madness I took from you was different in origin, Sam," Castiel explained in a low voice. "It was madness born of torture. Perhaps this thing with Amelia was simply a temporary madness." He looked down at the ground and then back up. "If you ever doubt, simply ask me, and I will clarify," the angel offered.

"Lucifer's cage is tightly locked. It would take unimaginable power to release him again. I do not think you will need to worry about that if several Fallen have been unsuccessful in their attempts to free him," he said soothingly, hoping that the words he spoke were the right ones. "Whether or not you may be able to generate a reality for yourself is inconsequential. Neither angels nor demons have a viable use for it that I know of. Angels can already bend reality, if you recall Gabriel."

He sighed softly and nodded again. "If there is anything, anything you think I may be able to do for you, Sam, please ask me. I only wish to help you both, and I will do everything in my power to aid you." He repeated the sentiment he had earlier, "I may not be what I once was, but I can still aid you if you will let me."

"Was it?" Sam didn’t remember the Cage, beyond flashes in his deepest dreams and nightmares, but he knew that somewhere, some part of him remembered. Castiel had taken his madness, but something of that experience remained, and he couldn’t help but feel that he should be able to remember it all better. He didn’t want to go mad, didn’t want to face the memories any more than he wanted to face what he did for the past year, but there was that tiny voice that said it was important to remember everything.

Sam nodded thankfully and turned to continue walking, silent as he listened to the cars drive by. Eventually he whispered, "But there are creatures who can get into the Cage... You did." It was not fear that pulsed through him at the thought that the Cage might not be the stronghold that Heaven thought it was. The Leprechaun had hinted that he could have gotten in and out easily with his back doors.

And there was always the worry that he'd hurt others without knowing it, just like Fred had done.

"Yes. It was," he replied, nodding. "You were subjected to unimaginable pain. Pain so immense that it scarred your soul." he acknowledged, before looking away again, reminded of another one of his failures. He said nothing for a while, his eyes quiet as he looked at his own feet, remembering how he'd fought to drag Sam away from his angry brothers, Lucifer and Michael.

He didn't deny that there were creatures that could get in and out of the cage, but instead looked up with a bit more confidence. "Yes, there are, but think of it this way, Sam: You were a mouse, in a cage built for... lions," he spoke metaphorically. "The bars of the cage were made for creatures very unlike you. They still hold strong, and do their jobs, while some others can slip in and out between them. They wouldn't let you out. They took their various frustrations out on you. I was able to.. pull only part of you out, because they did not wish to lose you," his voice grew very small as he dropped his head in shame.

"You did more for me than anyone else in my life, Cas. Well, excluding Dean," Sam expressed warmly, emphatically. "I just... I have to know. What did you see when you were in the Cage?" His own memories were so hazy and confused, none of them making sense with the Lucifer he had known before, and the time during their Joining seemed  muddled--as if someone had tried to wipe it out. He didn’t understand, but how he wanted to; especially the strange feeling he had that he shouldn't trust his memories of the Cage.

He couldn’t pinpoint why his obsession about the Cage had been growing over the past year, when he knew he should be putting that chapter of his life behind him. But he couldn’t. "It was made for just Lucifer, wasn't it? So how can it hold Michael as well?" For once, he had an angel by his side that wasn't reticent to give him real answers, to not twist him around to some end goal for Heaven; so of course he wanted to know and understand and learn. He was still so much the little boy who walked in to talk to a priest because he couldn't believe when John said that God was dead angels were simply the broken dreams of a million lost souls.

Sam still needed to believe in purity and purpose, even when he knew he wouldn’t find it in himself, or Castiel for that matter.

Castiel was clearly growing uncomfortable with the line of thought, the questions. Twice he had been to hell, to raise each of the brothers from eternal torment. Twice he'd fought tooth and nail to pull both himself and the boys from the clawing hands of demons, the gnashing teeth of the monsters that inhabited that place. The memories were ones he had no love of, and would have forgotten if he could. But they were branded into him, deep and aching and he could only do so much to push them back when being directly asked about them. He swallowed and shook his head, looking up at Sam with truly regretful eyes.

"Sam.. There is a reason you cannot remember..." he warned mournfully. "I do not wish to speak of what I saw. Please, they are not... good." He breathed softly, concerned for the younger Winchester before continuing on to the next questions.

"It was made for Lucifer, one of the highest ranking angels to have ever been created. Michael is the same as he," Castiel stated. "I am much lesser than they. If they are lions, and you are a mouse... I would be somewhere along the size of a housecat. Or was, when I retrieved you. When I tried to retrieve you," he corrected himself.

He furrowed his brows at himself, momentarily playing the answer over in his head before looking up at Sam. "Does that make sense?"

Sam couldn't help the small bloom of pain and betrayal, Castiel's refusal to tell him feeling like so many times before in his life where he was denied knowledge that should by all rights have been his. It was as if the world felt that he was either too fragile to handle the truth, or needed him in the dark to be pliable to their machinations. Castiel, well he probably fell under the former category.

"All right..." Sam muttered, voice little more than a toneless whisper.

How Castiel was explaining the Cage made sense in some ways, but not in others. If the Cage was made for Lucifer, one lion, how was it taking the strain of a second lion in there? And if it was created specifically for Lucifer, did Michael cause a difference in it? A disruption? Pushing the questions from his mind, he did his best to quell the rising curiosity and bile. Somehow thinking about all of this was making his head ache and his body was trying to warn him against something.

"I'm sorry." Wasn't he always sorry?

The angel knew he had done something wrong when Sam's voice drifted into nearly nothing, and he lowered his head, taking a deep breath before lifted his face to the clouds, his expression saddened. Several minutes of obvious contemplation passed before the Angel spoke again, and his voice was tiny and quiet.

"Sam, please, don't hate me for this," he pleaded, before reaching up to touch Sam's forehead with two fingers, very gently, delicately freeing just a few of the memories from where they had been wrangled and pinned. It was harder than he thought, much more draining, the threads wrought in steel by Death himself, but he managed to loosen one or two, praying that it would sate the Winchester's curiosity without driving him mad.

He dropped his hand, panting, and once again the standing water on the streets seeped into his clothing, a silent testimony to how much energy the angel had used. He felt like collapsing, but his eyes remained on Sam, watchful, just in case he needed to act, to take them away again.

Sam was about to tell Castiel that he was sorry about bringing any of this up at all, but his voice died away as fingers touched his forehead and locks clicked open deep inside his mind and soul. He reached out towards his companion, but missed as he fell to his knees, eyes wide and unseeing.

His eyes were pulled open, lids pried back and secured with hooks through the tender flesh. He was never allowed to blink against the burning winds that carried grit and sand and the ash his body had been reduced to in the prior days. There were no flames today, replaced by the dry, scorching winds that pulled him apart. The chains tightened around his chest again, small shards of metal hanging off of each link piercing his flesh and tearing open rifts as it moved.

He could hear screaming a ways off, screaming that his tired mind could no longer remember the owner of. It was a long time before he realized that it was himself, throat raw from the shouts and the wind.

Then came the fingers, cold trailing over his skin in tortuous promise of release, redemption. A redemption that never came. When the hand had reached his thigh, fingernails dug into his flesh cruelly and Lucifer's face came into view. "Hey, bunk buddy. Enjoying the rack today? I told you that this would all go so much easier if you'd just stop your foolish resistance."

Leaning in close, Lucifer's forked tongue flicked out and touched Sam's earlobe for the briefest of moments. The small puffs of cold air as the Devil whispered were almost worse than the blazing winds buffeting his body. "You said yes to me once. Do you really think just because you wrenched back control at the end that I'll let you be separated from me down here?"

His hands flew to his head as he tried to steady his breathing. Somehow he could sense that Castiel was all too ready to take these away from him, so he weakly held out a hand in the direction he thought Castiel was and whispered, "No... No it's alright. It just surprised me. I wasn't expecting it to be so strong, so sudden."

Castiel dropped to his knees as Sam did, heedless of the water and the concrete, his expression one of concern and remorse as Sam dealt with the memories that had been freed. He felt almost ill, as if he had been the one to go through whatever the Winchester was remembering himself, and, really, he was no better than whomever had done it to him if he didn't try to protect him from it. He wanted to strip them away almost immediately, but he also wanted to know if they were too much for Sam to bear first. He shouldn't take them again if Sam wanted them. Castiel didn't dare look himself, he wasn't certain he could deal with the memory from Sam's point of view in addition to his own.

So he waited, only a foot from the tall human, on his knees, fingers at the ready should Sam descend into madness again. Castiel didn't believe he had done enough to break Sam's mind, but he had failed at so many of his tasks in the past that he wanted to make doubly sure. It only belatedly occurred to him that maybe a street hadn't been the best place to do it, but it was too late now. There was no turning back.

He felt like he was waiting forever, and just as he meant to take them back Sam reacted, holding up a hand to him to explain. Castiel reached out to actually take it, in both hands, squeezing it tightly to offer support, to show he had not abandoned Sam. He looked completely contrite, utterly worried as he dipped his head.

"Please, forgive me, Sam," he whispered, bowing his head to the hand, feeling that he may have just made a terrible mistake by allowing his friend to remember such pain. "Please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--to hurt you."

"No, Cas...I needed to know," Sam reassured him, a fevered need lacing his words. People never told him anything, so even though this hurt, it was a greater gift and proof of Castiel's esteem towards him than almost anything else could be. "You can't blame yourself when I wanted to know."

He leaned forward into Castiel, seeking momentary comfort from another warm body as he buried his face in the Angel's shoulder. His head was killing him, but he knew the pain would subside as soon as his mind and soul understood that they weren't actually damaged, just phantom pains.

Wrapping his free arm around Castiel, he clung on for dear life, just trying to breathe and ride out the trailing edge of the wave. "Thank you, Cas," he uttered into the oddly intimate atmosphere between them. "No one ever trusts me to know anything, so thank you."

Curiosity killed the cat, and it so often got the better of Sam. But this time at least, it seemed like only a small blunder instead of another world shattering mistake.

Castiel swallowed hard, his eyes still searching, seeking Sam's, needing to know the truth, needing to know that Sam wouldn't hate him for what he had just done. The words didn't convince him, not really; but then the man was leaning against him, warm breath ghosting over his trench coat. Castiel's arms raised as quickly as Sam's did, and the angel scraped forward on his knees to be able to gather the larger man more firmly in a two-armed embrace, simply holding him while being held onto. If one could see his wings, they would see them unfurled but curving around Sam, arched delicately and protectively.

His hands had settled on Sam's shoulder blades as he clasped the man tight, fingers holding Sam steady as he tried to inject all the care he could into his embrace; he closed his own eyes, deciding that if he needed to remain this way the rest of the night, he would. Guilt still ate away at him, tearing tiny holes in his soul, his own conscience whispering obscenities at him, calling him anything but an angel. Angels shouldn't hurt the ones they cared for. Maybe he was a monster in the end, a wolf wearing sheep's clothing.

It didn't matter. His self-loathing took a backseat right now. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of Sam's head, fingers tangling in long brown locks. "Please, don't thank me. I told you I would do what I could for you. I intend to keep that promise, but I don't... I don't want to hurt you again, Sam. Please, don't thank me for pain," he insisted in a hoarse whisper, looking up at the stars again.

Sam's response was halfway lost in Castiel's trench coat. "You aren't the one who hurt me, Cas." If anything, Castiel was like a doctor who lanced a wound, bleeding off the excess pressure that might have killed a patient otherwise. "We can't protect people from everything. The best you can do is..." Sam's words caught in his throat as he thought of Dean, who used to hold him when his world was falling around his shoulders.

"...Stand by those you love and soldier on with them."

Dean had seemingly turned his back on Sam--not in the grand scheme of things, but inside his heart. He no longer had the energy or inclination to pick Sam up when he was broken and piece him back together. Perhaps all Sam was doing was substituting that relationship with Castiel, but he needed to know that someone would be there for him, would fight for him and not just with him.

Squeezing Castiel tighter for a moment, he slowly pulled back and carefully dragged himself to his feet. Still somewhat light headed, he took a steadying breath and rejoiced when he didn't go tumbling back to the sidewalk.

All you could do was fight next to those you cared about, because you couldn't fight their battles any more than they could fight yours. And they were soldiers, Castiel for Heaven, and Sam for... Hell? Did the sides matter anymore? They had chosen to fight for free will and the Earth and all those quiet moments where their strings weren't pulled by anyone but themselves. He could ask nothing more from Castiel than that he would fight by his side for as long as he was willing, not daring to ask for fealty or forever.

Despite the answer being muffled, Castiel heard it all with clarity, and his fingers tightened in Sam's soft hair briefly, still silently begging for pardon even though it had already been given. The words Sam used, one in particular, 'love', struck something deep inside of him and for a moment he was speechless as he considered the implications. Loving humans? Their Father had, but many angels harbored a hatred for the bipedal creatures, resentful of their free will, the choices their father had denied the angels. Castiel had been little more than apathetic when he was sent to watch over them, but through his time with Sam and Dean, taking Jimmy Novak as his vessel...

He was surprised to find he knew what love was, and that he did indeed care for these mortals beyond the scope of what would be considered normal. He had fought and died, several times over, for them. He had entered hell itself more than once to save them. He'd killed his own brothers and sisters to aid their cause. Could that be called anything other than love?

His mouth and throat dried quickly, and the angel took a breath as Sam squeezed him harder, stunned by his own revelations as Sam pulled away and finally stood. He followed, but only after several long seconds, his eyes wide and tired from the grace he'd used to free Sam's memories. Swaying slightly, he looked down at his damp clothes and then back up at Sam, offering a tiny smile.

"Are you... alright?" he asked tentatively, searching Sam's face again.

Sam laughed sadly, a harsh sound born of a need to push away concern in all the wrong ways, a lie he told himself. "Yeah, I'll be fine. How about you? You're not looking so hot." They hadn't even made it half of the way to the restaurant and he wondered if he shouldn't continue on alone. "If you need, feel free to head back to the room. I can get this stuff on my own just fine."

How funny. Earlier Castiel had suggested he'd get the food alone and now Sam was doing the same, reversing their positions. What a self-sacrificing lot they were.

As he looked at Castiel, his eyes slowly clearing from the pain that had nearly blinded him only minutes before, he noticed that Castiel's clothes were soaked and dirtied, something the angel would never do if he was feeling well. Unlocking those memories, had they really taken so much out of him?

If so, what would even help him? Would sleep be able to allow him to regenerate Grace faster? And why was he even running out of Grace over so small a thing... or was unlocking Sam's memories a larger task than he had originally assumed?

The tired angel blinked and looked confused for a moment before nodding his head, lying in the same manner Sam did. He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back, a gesture that looked entirely too human for him normally. "I'm fine," he rasped. "Besides, you don't know my first and second choices." He attempted to make a joke, flashing a weak grin before getting his swaying under control and giving another nod, rolling his shoulders and lifting his chin.

Flexing his fingers, glad to see that the pained haze was sliding away from Sam's face, the angel turned and began walking again. He walked quickly enough, but he didn't lift his feet as high, and the dirt on his clothing still seemed to go unnoticed for now. He didn't have the energy to clean it or teleport anyway.

Besides, he couldn't simply walk away from Sam right now, not so soon after having dumped the things he had on him. Cas needed to monitor Sam for at least a while longer. Stepping in a puddle, he blinked down after he took another step, watching the dampness crawl up his ankle, feeling it in his shoe. He sighed.

"Yeah, we're both pretty much perfect," Sam muttered under his breath with a smile in his voice. This, this he knew how to do; suck it all up and keep going. However, right now, they both needed to believe that to keep it together, because if they were to return now they would only worry Dean. He’d spent his entire life trying not to worry Dean, to not let him know how bad things really were because he was carrying enough weight, so it wasn’t like he could change those habits now.

So he pushed himself into motion, easily catching up to Castiel and matching his pace. "Ah, you're completely right, Cas. I have no idea what you'd want to eat... but are you sure you do either?" He asked with a tired chuckle.

After that they walked in silence for the rest of the way to restaurant, companionable silence.

 


	4. Unchained Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel helps Sam through more of his locked memories.

********  
  


Castiel found that he wasn't very hungry when they reached the restaurant, but he ordered a Garlic Chicken meal anyway after staring at the menu for several long minutes. The words were blurrier than he was used to, and some things he had to read more than once to understand, but he finally managed and made his way to a small table in the corner to allow Sam to order what he and Dean wanted.

He knew he needed to take them back with his angelic powers; they had wasted too many minutes holding each other on the street, and Dean would worry. Sitting down at the table, he sighed, feeling as if his bones were made of jelly. His spine curved, and soon a stubbled cheek landed on the table, eyes still watching Sam at the counter, arms draped loosely over his lap, hands barely touching as he let his breathing even out.

He wondered how much energy he could gain back in the fifteen minutes the woman had said it would take to cook their food.

It didn't take long for Sam to order his and Dean's food, listing off orders that he knew by heart. Then he paid for it and plopped down bonelessly in the seat across from Castiel. The poor man looked about as tired as he felt. What a pair they made. "Well," he turned and looked at himself in the dark reflection of the window, "we look like death warmed over. Ideas on what we'll tell Dean?"

Looking back to Castiel, he couldn't help but wonder if Cas had somehow managed to fall asleep with his eyes open.

"Maybe tell him that the day finally caught up with us?" Yeah, that sounded about as unbelievable out loud as it did in his head.

The angel shifted as he was spoken to, lifting his head back up and glancing in the window with a sigh before looking back at Sam. “I can leave. He will believe you. Your walk was long earlier. There could be a logical reason for your fatigue," he said before straightening his spine and tugging at his trench coat for a moment.

"It is far less likely for him to believe it if I am there. I am aware my state is far from optimal and that it takes a significant amount of energy loss to reach it."

Perhaps he didn't want to face Dean, knowing that he was lying to the man; but he didn't want Sam to be strained even more than he had to be right now. His brows furrowed slightly as he gazed outside. "Perhaps tell him you simply don't know where I went? " In truth he didn't want to go anywhere. He wanted to go back with Sam and lie on a bed like a human. Cas wanted to be able to block out the world for a few hours with sleep like a human.  He just didn't want to be alone.

"No, you're not going off by yourself, Cas." Sam refused to send the angel out when he was obviously terribly drained because of him. "We won't say anything, just give him his food. If he asks questions, I'll come up with something. He might not entirely believe me, but hopefully he'll understand not to press it." Resting his hopes on Dean's understanding sounded like a perfectly horrid idea, but he really couldn't face the alternative of turning out the angel who had just spent the entire day helping him.

"Think you're gonna need sleep tonight?" He knew that Castiel was still rather freshly out of Purgatory, so he had no idea how much or little Grace the angel had right now. Maybe it recovered with food and sleep like a human, maybe not. "’Cause if you do, I know Dean won't be willing to share his bed, but I don't really mind. You look like you could use some shut eye and the beds are huge."

He'd shared beds with Dean what felt like a lifetime ago, so it wasn't like the idea of sleeping with another man in the bed was as disturbing to him as it was for others. Plus if anyone had earned a spot on a bed, it was Cas. He'd worked his ass off today.

The angel blinked in surprise as Sam firmly told him he wasn't going anywhere, blue eyes studying him with a mixture of curiosity and wonder. It was almost as if Sam had been able to read his thoughts. He shifted in his seat, leaning against the back of the chair and clearing his throat as it creaked quietly, setting his hands on the table and weaving his fingers together.

He remembered lying in bed with his wife at night, watching over her as she slept. He'd never slept himself, never felt the need to, but sometimes he had pretended just to ease her when she woke in the middle of the night. Sleep was an alien concept to the angel, and he wondered if it would do him any good to allow himself to do so. Lying in a bed with another male made no difference. He was not in the least bit bothered by the stigmas associated with sexual orientation, nor was he aware this type of thing could be considered taboo to humans.

"I have never needed food or sleep; I have always regained my grace without it. But I am tired. Perhaps I will try," he conceded with a nod. If he couldn't sleep, it would be no different from the millions of other nights he had already stayed vigilant through. "I think I will have a shower as well," he murmured.  “Thank you for your offer."

Sam remembered the shower Castiel had taken when he finally appeared before them after having mysteriously exited Purgatory. Even with that precedent, it was odd to think of Cas doing normal human things like showering. They seemed beneath him somehow. "Be my guest," he replied with a tired smile.

He wouldn't take a shower himself tonight, but a fresh change of clothes sounded right up his alley.

A few more minutes were spent in a silence that was more stupor than intentional, then Sam was roused by one of the waitresses coming over and handing him a bag with their orders. After thanking her, he forced himself to stand up and stretched slightly, trying to work out a little of the acid from his muscles.

"So, ready for the walk back?"

Castiel stood as well, feeling almost as old as he was, soul-weary and weak. Still, he hid it as best as he was able, reaching out slowly to brush his fingers along Sam's shoulder.

Instead of the decorative tile of the restaurant's floor, they were once again standing on cold concrete, just outside of the motel steps. Cas offered Sam a small smile.

"You are sore, and I would do something more, if I could right now," he apologized in a hushed voice before glancing down at himself. Summoning the last bits of energy he cleaned and dried himself, putting on the most normal expression he could as he dropped his hand from Sam's shoulder and climbed the stairs, looking for all the world like a wounded animal that wouldn't show its weakness.

He pushed the door open and glanced at the television before moving into the bathroom, hoping to get by Dean before the green-eyed brother focused too much on him.

"I'll be back shortly," he murmured to them both.

Sam watched Castiel walk up the stairs and he called softly after the angel, "Nah, you've already done more than enough, Cas. A few sore muscles will be good for me, build character." Then he started up the stairs with the bag of take out swinging back and forth with his steps. When he got to the top and walked through the open door to their room, Castiel was already retreating into the bathroom.

He couldn't say for certain, but it seemed like the angel wanted some time alone, so he ran diversion and plopped down Dean's entree onto his lap. "They had Mongolian beef."

Dean looked up from the commercial break of the second episode of Dr. Sexy in a row and smiled hungrily. "Now that's what I like to hear."

Taking the other two meals, Sam moved onto his own bed and propped himself against the headboard with a pillow, leaving enough room for Castiel to join after he was done in the bathroom if he wanted. "Glad to hear it."

Castiel stripped his clothing like an ordinary human for once, folding them neatly with his hands and not the power of his mind. It had been a while since he'd taken a normal shower, not since he'd become aware once more of who he was. The handle under his fingertips was strange, almost alien, but he turned it, hissing slightly at the cold water that hit him first before warming quickly. He listened to it in silence, turning to the far wall of the bath and pressing his forehead to the tile. He might have stayed that way for thirty seconds or two hours, he couldn't tell, but he finally managed to force his wearied muscles into motion, grabbing a washcloth and running it over his body with a soft sigh.

The steam was welcome, calming, warm like Sam's arms but more encompassing and after using both shampoo and soap, he felt almost clean. Turning the water off, he reached for a towel next and made short work of his water-logged vessel before carefully putting on the clothes and giving another hushed sigh, looking at himself in the mirror. He barely recognized the angel in him anymore. Was there any left? He still had grace, but he was everything an angel should not be.

Exiting the bathroom, he looked at the brothers quietly for a moment before sitting next to Sam on the bed slowly, still completely dressed, hair damp. Pulling his meal to himself, he popped it open and found a fork, though he hesitated to take a bite. He was simply exhausted.

Sam closed his eyes for a while, just enjoying the muted sounds about the room--the voices from the television, Dean's breathing, and the shower running inside the bathroom. It all helped distract him from the feeling that his eyelids were still held open by hooks or that Lucifer's cold touch trailed over his chest. Perhaps it had been an oversight on his part, but he honestly hadn't thought that these memories would haunt him like the madness had before.

And perhaps they wouldn't. Perhaps his brain needed to replay the phantom pains and sensations to help itself deal with the fact that memories had just been unlocked.

Perhaps this was all normal.

But really? Who could say what was normal when you got back from hundreds of years in the deepest corners of Hell? There wasn't exactly a manual on any of this. There never was.

When Castiel came back out, Sam let a small smile slip onto his face and he finally turned his attention fully to the program Dean was watching. Even though he wasn't a fan, it was a mind-numbing activity that could make the time pass, so he watched while slowly eating his meal.

Castiel stared at his meal for a few moments, long and hard, before heaving a sigh and taking a couple of bites, just to be polite. He chewed lazily, his jaw working only because he forced it to, his eyes closing as he picked out and identified each spice and additive used. It was delicious food, he just wasn't craving it, and to a being that had never truly known hunger, it was a bit of a chore. Soon enough, Castiel placed the container on the nightstand and shifted on the bed, glad that Dean seemed engrossed in his show.

Reaching out cautiously, he touched two fingers to the back of Sam's head just under his ear, giving the hunter a quick scan for any signs of madness. Finding none, he gave Sam a reassuring smile before turning to lie down on his side, back to both brothers and sighing deeply as he rested his cheek on the pillow beneath him. He closed his eyes, willing his body to rest, to sleep as a normal human would and to take him into darkness and peace if only for a short time.

Dean seemed to have the most energy right now out of the three of them, but the alcohol had made him more than a little tired himself. It wasn't more than fifteen minutes before Sam had placed his half eaten meal on the nightstand and curled down into his comforter. Dean nodded off, with the television still on only twenty minutes later.

However, before he fell asleep he couldn't help looking over and staring a long while at their sleeping angel. Maybe he was a pessimist, but the fact that Castiel was actually sleeping nearly frightened him. There was something wrong about that. Something so very wrong with an angel needing to sleep.

Although he had just gotten out of Purgatory, so perhaps this was just residual weakness.

Whatever was going on, Dean assured himself that he would get to the bottom of it eventually. Then he nodded off to sleep, remote dropping from his lax fingers.

The muted television played on through the night, casting living lights over sleeping figures.

 

* * *

 

They were in a clearing deep in the forest this time. A calming area full of singing birds and the babbling of a brook, a small, extra precaution the angel took to help Sam work through these memories. The angel took a deep breath, setting his hands on Sam's shoulders and pressing the taller man down to sit on a relatively clear patch of grass before kneeling between his long legs.

He hated this, hated everything about it; but mostly he hated himself for bowing to Sam's wishes each time and giving him his memories back, one by one, day by day. Sam had handled them well so far, but it made Castiel no less worried. One straw could break a camel's back, and he didn't know Sam's limit, if he had one.

Taking a deep breath and looking into those steady eyes, Castiel made the silent promise he made every time he did this--begging for forgiveness in the same expression. He would be here, he would take care of Sam if things went wrong. He didn't speak, he didn't need to anymore, as he raised two fingers to Sam's head and picked at the threads binding the next memory until it came loose and filtered into Sam's consciousness.

Sam was slowly getting pieces of the puzzle back from Castiel, memories painting a hazy picture of what had happened to him although there were still so many unanswered questions. He couldn't help feeling that with each memory, he was even more confused than before, the pieces never seeming to fit into a homogenized whole. Some part of him distrusted the memories while another part of him kept saying that it would all make sense in time.

He wasn't sure which to believe in this case.

But then the latest memory uncoiled itself from deep inside and Sam lost himself in it.

The Cage was cold that day, the scorching winds from the day before having subsided in the face of the approaching glacial storm. His bones ached from the chill, while his skin still burned from the previous heat. However, he was far from alone in his torment for in the distance were the sounds of Adam's cries. He was being tormented as surely as Sam was by malicious, capricious angels who only understood following a single plan until completion.

Castiel could never predict which memory he would unlock, what Sam may experience from the past. Some days were worse than others and Sam took longer to recover from the sessions. He never knew until it was over just how visceral Sam's reaction would be. Half the time he expected to be struck out at as a memory bled into reality. Still, he never moved from the spot in front of his friend, willing to take any pain in retribution for being the cause of so much.

His hands were on Sam's shoulders now, fingers holding the man firmly but not too tightly should he have an adverse reaction. The angel hadn't blinked once, watching Sam quietly, his eyes full of concern as he waited for Sam's own to focus again and for the hunter to come back, to give him some idea of his state of mind.

He was patient, ever patient. Castiel would perch like this for hours if he needed to. Reaching out to Sam's temple, he touched him gently, doing a quick sweep of his vitals and making sure they were all steady.

Sam blinked a few times, his body shivering from the phantom chills of his memories, and he subconsciously moved closer to Castiel for warmth. "Oh man... Could you just... talk please? I just need to hear something else for a while." The tortured screams kept echoing through his head, over and over and over and over, until Sam wanted to claw at his ears and bleed the sound out. But he didn't give in to that base desire.

Instead he tried his best to focus on the sounds of the forest around him, but there wasn't anything quite powerful enough to keep his attention. So instead he leaned forward and pressed an ear against the angel's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of Jimmy's heart beating. It was a calming enough sound, repetitious and grounding. His arms wrapped around Castiel as he forced himself to calm down.

"I... I heard his screams, Cas." He muttered against Castiel's coat. "I could hear him screaming all the time..."

Castiel moved forward quickly and easily, nudging himself between Sam's thighs to close the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Sam's shoulder and sliding a hand into his hair; it was an odd gesture that seemed to have become customary during these sessions. He'd seen the shudder run down Sam's spine and his fingers stroked lightly at the scalp beneath them in another gesture of comfort he had come to learn with his wife. He wasn't sure how to answer Sam's request, and it wasn't until Sam talked about screams that the angel was prodded into saying something.

"It will.. be all right, Sam." he breathed, still not used to offering verbal comfort though he tried to do his best. Regardless, he knew that vague reassurances were preferable to concrete analysis of what was wrong in times like this. "It will all be okay," he whispered, looking straight ahead. Still, he wondered what had Sam so distraught, whose screaming he had heard.

Was it Michael's? Sam didn't care for Michael at all, but to think Sam would care about Lucifer screaming chilled him. He seemed clearly disturbed by whatever he had heard. Sam, Michael and Lucifer had been alone in the cage when he'd taken his friend back, and he shivered to remember that cold, black pit and how he had struggled to find Sam in it.

"Forgive me," he muttered under his breath, as he always did knowing Sam would once again reassure him there was nothing to forgive. His fingers pressed through the locks gently and he closed his eyes with another sigh.

Sam curled into Castiel, leaning into his gentle touch, trying to separate the visions from reality, waiting until the arms around him didn't feel like chains and the fingers in his hair didn't seem like worms or maggots or anything else from the Cage. He never thought that the worst part of his time in the Cage wouldn't be his own torture, but listening to Adam's. He'd never felt so guilty in all his life.

When he spoke again, his voice was stronger and he was no longer trembling but slowly filling with his all too familiar brand of self-hatred, loathing and anger. Shifting his grip on Castiel, he pulled his head up so he could look the angel in the face and placed his arms loosely around the small of his back. "Hey now, I know I say this everytime, but, there's nothing to forgive, Cas. Really. And it's not like you're just dumping memories on me and leaving. So don't blame yourself, all right?"

He waited until he felt that Castiel wasn't wallowing in self-hatred before he started to talk about what he'd seen, having found in their last few sessions that talking about the memories helped him externalize them. "It was bitterly cold this time, so cold that the metal of the rack had frozen to my wounds. If I moved at all, it would keep tearing things open. But that wasn't the worst of it. I could hear Adam screaming, Cas, and he sounded like he was in so much worse pain than I was. I could hear him screaming and there wasn't a single thing I could do to help him."

Castiel soothed Sam as best as he was able, holding him as the minutes ticked past. They were nothing to the angel but miserable; he had lived for so long that the passage of time was trivial except when there was something pressing, and even then, at times he could bend time a little to help. But he couldn't bend time now, he had to allow Sam to work through his pain and his grief; to work through his memories healthily, absorb them and allow them to settle within him.

Finally, Sam began to stir and Castiel found himself looking into those kind hazel eyes again, the voice reassuring him, as it always did, that the fault did not lie with him. He could hear the pain in Sam's tone, feel it in the arms that were wrapped loosely around his back and though he desperately wanted to believe the words were true, he would still never be able to forgive himself for causing this human, one of the mortals he had taken as his charge, the pain he now experienced. Still, he offered Sam a sad smile and pulled him closer, taking comfort from the fact that Sam would still touch him, that he wasn't so reviled that he would pull away from the angel and he gave a nod, ready to listen.

Placing his forehead to Sam's, as if by doing this he could share the memories, take some of the burden onto himself, Castiel listened. He remembered the cold for himself, a chill that made even an angel's bones ache; but he had to stop when Sam mentioned Adam, leaning back with a furrowed brow and several blinks. "Sam," he started, tipping his head to the side and shaking it briefly as he cupped Sam's face and running his fingers soothingly over the high cheekbones. "I don't know who you heard, but it wasn't Adam." He looked earnestly into the young hunter's eyes.

"Adam was taken to Heaven the moment Michael took his body as a vessel. He is with his mother, safe," Castiel murmured. "The angels kept their promises," he breathed.

Sam's breath hitched and he felt like he'd suddenly been punched in the gut by Castiel's revelation. "But... if that wasn't Adam, why did I..." His mind raced at double time trying to put together reasons for why the memory would have Adam in it if he had never, in fact, been in the Cage. Perhaps the angels had made it sound like Adam was there to increase Sam's own punishment? Sam had always had a caring heart, after all, and what better torture was there than to think that you had damned another man to your doom.

"Could Lucifer and Michael have done that?" He muttered to himself, thinking his way through this glaring disparity. "That's... a possibility right? Made it sound like he was there, just to make me feel more guilty?" Somehow this felt important, but he didn't know why, and thinking about it too much made something hurt deep inside his mind.

Really, if he compared these memories with the flashes he'd had when he'd been hallucinating Lucifer, or even just right after Castiel had broken down his wall, they still didn't match up. Those memories had been filled with blood and flames and meat hooks, but all of these newly unlocked memories showed Lucifer more inclined to use the elements to torture him, or simply sit back and watch the show.

What was going on?

"When you were down there, did the Cage change a lot?" Perhaps Castiel hadn't been down there long enough to know, but he should have some idea, right?

Castiel watched the man quietly, stunned by the expression on his face and unsure how to counter or sooth it. When he'd been down, he hadn't heard or seen much of anything while in the actual cage, though getting there had been one of the most draining fights of his life. Countless demons and creatures from Hell had fallen to his wrath, and every second it had felt like the tide would change. He would be overwhelmed, swept away, torn limb from limb.

"I... don't know," he admitted when Sam asked if Lucifer and Michael could use their powers like that. "All I do know is that Adam is safe, in Heaven. Were he with you in the Cage, I would have brought you both back," he stated in a low voice. Castiel took a deep breath and let his hands fall to Sam's shoulders, squeezing gently as Sam asked him to revisit his own memories of the place. A place he would be exceedingly happy not to have to remember. Still, he did, closing his eyes for a moment as he explained.

"When I was there... It didn't change at all. It took days for me to get to the Cage, and some time for me to actually find you in it. It... " he sighed deeply. "It was cold... freezing... completely black. There was no light inside, and it didn't change at all unless Michael was close. The air warmed around him," he spoke gently, eyes still closed, unable to help the shiver that traced his spine.

Sam frowned unsure as to what this meant then. In a quiet voice he added, "Then I don't know what's going on, Cas, because that's not what I'm remembering at all." He squeezed Castiel before letting go and standing up, carding a hand through his hair. "I mean, sometimes it was cold, but more often than not it was like I was in a blast furnace, the winds would tear at me." Pacing back and forth, he tried to work off a little of the nervous energy that was building inside of him.

Yet again there were warning bells in his head and something that just kept screaming wrong.

"And it's never been dark in my... memories." Sam stopped moving and looked down at his friend who had pushed off the ground shortly after himself. "Cas, if you say that it was completely dark, could my mind have made up all of this? Images to go along with what I heard or felt? Because right now, this isn't making much of any sense."

Castiel pulled himself to his feet slowly after allowing Sam to rise, hands hanging down as he took his usual quiet stance, simply observing, his eyes fascinated and concerned. He was already wondering what Sam heard or saw, especially if it had never been dark, for he had spent some time searching for the man and it had never been light. He watched Sam pace and wished he didn't feel so utterly helpless. Sam's memories were far from being whole, there were still a great many more to untangle, but he couldn't understand why there seemed to be such a big reality gap already.

Sam was taller than him, so Castiel tipped his head up to meet his eyes, wishing not for the first time, and never for the last, that there was more he could do. Something did seem wrong here, off. But Sam had been in Hell, what wasn't wrong about that?

"I believe it is possible for your mind to make you believe some things, Sam," he offered tentatively. "Perhaps it is a situation akin to Amelia's. Perhaps your true memories are so overwhelming that you wrote new ones, still terrible, but bearable."

"And then locked them all away so I wouldn't realize it? That seems a little convoluted, even for my brain," Sam replied offhandedly. "Whenever I've hallucinated or made my own reality, my brain tends to like to stay there until something knocks me out of it, but even then it tries to reestablish that reality with flashbacks and memories. It's never locked anything away."

So much confusion and doubt and frustration was pouring through him that he just wished there was something he could do, something to take his mind off this horrendous mess. But running away wouldn't solve anything, and it certainly wouldn't get him to the bottom of this. Sighing, he turned to the angel. "So, let’s go off the assumption for right now that these memories may or may not be real. You said Death was the one who put up my original wall, right? Could he have..." Sam fell silent. It seemed almost silly to suggest that his memories were so important that Death would have tampered with them.

His thumb massaged the old scar, pressing into the gnarled flesh out of force of habit. When he caught what he was doing, he forced his hands apart and crossed his arms. "Well, whatever is going on, something isn't right here, Cas. I know it might sound dumb, but I can feel it."

Castiel was perplexed by the entire situation and shifted his weight back and forth on his feet, clearing his throat as his fingers curled and uncurled. He didn't know what to say without bestowing more pain upon his friend, and he dare not try and correct Sam for fear he take offense. The boys were all he had now, and he was reluctant to put the relationships in jeopardy. Didn't they say here on earth that crazy people didn't know they were crazy? A mind could work in a hundred different ways, could fool anyone with a million different scenarios and wires that could be fiddled with.

He swallowed and nodded as Sam asked him about Death, following the line of thought slowly, his eyes darting over Sam's face. "I cannot see why he would have tampered with them, though I suppose it is within his power to do so. As far as I am aware, he simply locked them away." he murmured, looking around the clearing they were in with a soft sigh.

When his eyes fell back to Sam, he found him massaging the scar again, and took a small breath, unwilling to believe something was seriously wrong, but unwilling to correct Sam. Had playing with his memories tripped some new form of madness? Was Castiel responsible for this as well?  "Perhaps. Or perhaps, you simply haven't gained all of your memories back yet, and they do not make sense. Perhaps the larger picture will focus with time." he offered.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Sam replied, letting out a breath. "No reason to worry about this when we don't have any solid proof of anything." And while he knew well enough that worrying wouldn't help anything, he couldn't help the waves of hopelessness and frustration that were still washing over him. Turning away from Castiel, he walked a little ways into the woods and shook out his arms, hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to focus on anything else.

He needed to do something, let off some of this steam, but they hadn't seen any jobs in a while; and worse than that, he could feel the pressure at the base of his skull that meant his powers were starting to build up again. Casting his eyes around the patch of forest he was in, he noticed a small boulder about fifty yards off, and he tugged. The boulder immediately flew off the ground and shot towards him, stopping only a hair's breadth away from hitting him. "Damn..." He was somehow still getting stronger, even though he wasn't actively using any of his powers now.

Of course he could chuck the boulder back out with a mere flick of his wrist, but that didn't have quite the same cathartic release as winding up and throwing, putting his whole body into the motion. The boulder hurled away from him, flying out into the forest until there was a resounding crack as the boulder knocked into a tree, and then a series of smaller snaps as the tree fell and branches were broken on the way down.

Turning around he saw Castiel watching him, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't tell what his friend was thinking just then, what he thought about his powers or his madness or anything. "Don't suppose you have any idea why they're getting stronger, do you?"

The angel couldn't help but feel that Sam was simply trying to appease him by dropping the subject. He could still feel the tension emanating off the human, could see the tense muscles, read the frustrating in the lines on his face. He wanted to be able to take it all away somehow. To give Sam the serene expression he sometimes had when he wasn't being plagued by one of his nightmares. He fell short. He would always fall short, not knowing what the man needed, or even truly wanted.

He trailed after his friend, stepping through the shadows cast by the trees, as silent as any stalking predator might be, though his purpose was not nearly so dark. He simply walked to keep Sam company, to keep him close, to watch over him.

He reacted instinctively as Sam pulled a boulder toward him, dashing forward a few steps as he feared the human being struck, but he stopped again when it simply hovered in the air less than an inch from the Winchester. Exhaling sharply and schooling his features back into something less affected, he allowed his eyes to follow the boulder and the damage it did when Sam willed it away.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he watched quietly, glancing at Sam briefly. "I don't." he breathed, lowering his head and wishing he could offer more. What a poor excuse for a friend who was supposed to be watching over you, who had been wandering the world for eons. "I am sorry, Sam."

Sam nodded and looked at Castiel for a long while, "Well, demon blood, not exactly your expertise I guess." It had been a long shot, but not a terribly surprising answer.

Shifting his weight between his legs uncomfortably, he rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. There was a question that he wanted to ask, but the very thought of voicing it seemed like an aberration in and of itself. However, if it could help them in any way with closing the gates of Hell and getting the tablet back, maybe it was worth it. So  he squared up his shoulders and manned up, "Cas, do you think it's wrong for me to use my powers? Dean's always hated them, but now that I know I don't have to be on the demon blood... I could honestly help people, right? Without the blood lust and the rage. It's not more damning in Heaven's eyes to use them, is it?"

Hell, he didn't even know if Heaven would take him in after all the things he'd done, after starting the Apocalypse and saying yes to Lucifer. So maybe it didn't matter, maybe his soul already belonged to Hell no matter what he did. But he wanted so badly to be able to help, and these past few weeks had reminded him that he had a whole arsenal that he never touched.

Castiel lowered his shoulders and head, upset that he couldn't help more. He knew he should be more useful, should know more about such things, but it had never been a concern before, and now he couldn't even get back to heaven himself. He didn't want to. He couldn't face them, he couldn't come to terms with the things he'd done.

Slowly, he looked up at Sam, considering him for a while, his eyes quiet and contemplative as he picked out words for his answer. It took a small while, but finally he stepped up to the taller man and set a hand on his shoulder, looking him directly in the eyes.

"I don't think it's wrong, if you're using them for the right reasons." he answered honestly, as steady as he could muster. "If you do not have to sin to exercise them, I see no reason why Heaven would hold your powers against you." Of this he was sure, you could not hold a bird responsible for the color of it's feathers. His heart ached to imagine Sam in Heaven once his life ended, with Castiel himself grounded on earth, but he would do everything in his power to make sure Sam went up, instead of down. Neither Winchester deserved Hell.

"Sinning to use my powers? So drinking demon blood is a sin? Funny, I must have missed that one when I was reading over the bible." Sam replied, trying to raise their spirits with a little humor, although he didn't know if it would work on Castiel.

And while he still had a million warnings in his head that told him not to use his powers, he was starting to realize that none of that was his own conviction, just the voices of all the people in his life who had tried to control him. Heaven, Hell, John, Dean, Azazel... everyone had had some sort of agenda for him. Well, he wanted to make his own choices for once.

"Do you think you could teach me how to use them a little better? I know they're probably not quite the same as yours, but there's not really any manuals around on how to use repressed supernatural powers." Sam said with a warm smile.

Castiel shot Sam a glance, raising his brow, not catching the humor in that statement at all. Of course siding with Hell was a sin. He'd done it himself at times, to ensure the Earth's survival, and look how well that had turned out for him. He dropped his hand, and took a step back, giving Sam his space, considering the request for a moment.  He didn't know if he even able be able to teach Sam in the first place, but something tickled at his mind.

What if he was able to? What if he could coach Sam, as Ruby had, but down a path that did not need blood or violence? There were be no need for dependence on outside substances. If he could teach Sam, if by some miracle he could make that work... It was far better to try than to leave Sam to deal with his powers alone, to try and struggle through his frustrations where he could easily hurt himself or someone else if he wasn't careful. Sam would need support if something went wrong, or someone to encourage him when it was right.

Could this be a key to redemption for them both?

Sam waited with bated breath, anxiety clenching his stomach painfully. What if Castiel said no? Of course Sam could just try to figure it all out by himself, but what would that mean if Dean saw him do something? And that was the biggest hang up of all, wasn't it. He needed to tell Dean about all of this, or at the very least about the reemergence of his powers, because if his brother found out about it by catching him using them, that would be the end. Of that, he had no doubt.

Castiel’s eyes widened slightly as he looked up at the taller Winchester, and he began to nod, slowly at first, and then with more vigor. "Our powers are different in origin, but I will help you with what I can." Castiel offered, almost eagerly, for the first time, a sliver of hope sliding through him.

With that answer, Sam felt a weight fall from his shoulders. At least he wouldn't have to go about this on his own. Closing the space between them, Sam pulled Castiel into a quick hug, slapping his back before letting him go. "Thank you, Cas, really. I mean, I can train the powers that I already know about, but I have no idea how to go about seeing if there was anything that Ruby didn't teach me. Knowing her, there probably was."

He'd loved Ruby, but after her betrayal, he had enough clarity of vision to be able to look back and see how carefully she had orchestrated what he did, learned, thought. There could be a whole host of powers that he had no idea about.

"And... I'm going to need to tell Dean about this, so..." That wouldn't be fun, but Sam certainly didn't want Castiel to feel so indebted that he had to be around for that.

Castiel's arms raised instinctively by this point to cradle Sam for just a few seconds, his own heart skipping a beat at the contact that had grown more and more frequent between them. He enjoyed the physical reassurance that he was not as abominable as he thought himself, and each time Sam reached out to him he reached back, seeking to offer the man the same comfort. There was something about touching others that he had not understood before, a connection that was forged by the feeling of having another's embrace. Angel's rarely did so, and though Nephilim existed, Castiel hadn't ever sought out physical touch as a means of affirmation before the whole Winchester fiasco began.

"Of course." he said softly, knowing that they'd have to wait for another day. He would have to go poking around in Sam to uncover what powers had lain dormant, or so quiet they were undetectable, if there were any, and it wasn't going to be easy, or fun for either of them.

"Demons have a habit of telling one what they want you to know, and nothing more." he said softly, giving a nod before looking around the forest and then back up at the taller man. "Yes. You should tell Dean. I will try to help as best I can to make him understand." he offered, giving Sam his promise that he wasn't going to go anywhere. He was going to stand by his friend's side, whatever the obstacle.

Knowing that Castiel was going to stand by him made him feel better than he had in months, better than he'd felt since Dean had returned from Purgatory with all his pain and distrust and secrets.

"Thank you." Simple words for such a depth of gratitude.

Now to decide whether he had the courage to tell Dean now or not; although if he waited he might never get the courage together to have this conversation. Well, whenever he did it, it'd be rough, but he just needed to remind himself that no matter what was said in anger, he couldn't hold it against Dean. A much easier thing to promise yourself before an invetable fight than after one.

"So, you feeling up to getting us back?" He asked, always conscious of how much returning memories took out of Castiel.

Castiel should his head. He needed no thanks, he would never need thanks again. He owed it to Sam. To Dean, to his brothers and sisters. To god. He owed it to anyone and everyone to do the most good he could in the world. And the look on Sam's face, pure relief, was better than anything he'd experienced in the past several months. It was enough payment for the humbled angel, a thousand times over.

"Yes. Of course." he said softly. Though untangling Death's chains on the memories was exhausting, he'd learned to carefully pick them apart instead of scrape, to worry at loose tendrils until they fell apart by themselves rather than simply throwing all his energy into forcefully breaking them. He was still tired after doing it, but not as weary as he had been the first night.

Reaching out to set his hand on Sam's shoulder, he spread wings that were invisible to the human and took them both away in the span of a blink. Depositing them both just outside the motel the Winchester's had decided to take refuge in that night. He dropped his hand and looked up at Sam reassuringly.


	5. We're too Young to Feel This Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean have another argument, but Castiel is there to assure Sam he is not the sum of his failures.

Sam bounced on the balls of his feet while looking at the hotel with apprehension. This was really it. "Ok, no matter what happens," he looked back at Castiel and gave a lopsided smile that was too tight to be natural, "we'll figure something out." Taking a deep breath he went up the stairs, taking two at a time as he tried to burn off some of his nervous energy. There was a storm of butterflies that battered about inside him, and he had a vague notion that he might get sick after all this was over and done with.

Well, no way back now. Slipping the key into the door he pushed it open and looked around to see if Dean was in. Sure enough, there he was, surfing on Sam's laptop.

The angel gave Sam the most reassuring nod he could, coupling it with a gentle smile, his blue eyes as kind as they ever were. They would figure it out, Castiel would be with him every step that Sam let him, and hopefully, just maybe, Dean would decide to be with them. To join them. To believe Sam and forgive him and Castiel for their silence the past few weeks. Dean had asked for one thing, and Sam was now delivering it. With a flutter of wings he was in the room behind Sam, watching the older brother from the corner of Sam's shoulder, willing Dean to simply listen for once. He could tell Dean was ready to fight, but felt a surge of hope as the elder managed to close his mouth before saying something hurtful.

"Hey Dean... we need to talk." Sam really tried his best not to make that sound as ominous as it did in his head, but he could tell by the way Dean's eyes slid over towards him that he had probably failed miserably.

"Yeah?" Carefully closing the lid of the laptop, Dean pushed his way off the bed, everything about his stance screaming fight or flight. "What's going on, Sasquatch?"

And if these words didn't kill him, then Dean's reaction just might. Forcing the words through his suddenly collapsed throat, Sam fought to keep his face as neutral as possible. "You asked me to tell you about this last year. Well, I'm ready to tell you about it, but I need you to just... just listen ok? No interrupting?"

Dean started to say something but reined himself back in, closing his mouth with a finality that showed he would do his best not to interrupt.

"Well, my powers reawakened while you were gone. I guess losing you, it--it messed me up." Sam fought the temptation to push his thumb into the scar again, more out of reassuring familiarity than any fear. "Remember Fred? Well just like how he lost control of his powers, I kind of did, too. I honestly didn't realize I was using them, but sometimes I'd reach out and something would fly to my hand, or I'd ask someone for something and they'd just give it to me."

There was a flash of anger and betrayal in Dean's eyes, but he only clenched his jaw and fought to remain silent.

"And you were outside the chapel doors still, so I doubt you heard. But I don't actually need the demon blood for my powers to work, Dean. I never did. I never wanted to believe Ruby when she told me that, I wanted so badly to blame all of it, all my mistakes and terrible choices on the blood; on how it changed me, how it made me feel. But this last year is kind of proof against that." Sam could see that Dean was still less than convinced, so he pressed on, growing more emphatic, bordering on pleading. "I need you to believe me when I say that I didn't touch a single drop of demon blood while you were gone. I was clean. I stayed away from hunts because I was as much afraid of myself as I just wanted out. Wanted to be done with... everything." His voice broke over the last word.

So far, so good. Castiel couldn't miss the expressions flickering over Dean's face, couldn’t help but feel him tensing for a fight. He shuffled his wings like an awkward bird, ready to move between them at any time should this come to blows.

Sam continued to explain as Castiel stepped out fully from behind him, hands by his sides, taking a small breath and focusing on Dean now, watching him closely for signs of distress. "He's telling the truth, Dean," the angel mumbled, dipping his head to confirm Sam's story, seeing the doubt still etched into the lines of Dean's face. "Demon blood only enhanced Sam's powers. He does not need it to use them, and they have been growing stronger on their own," he finished simply, soothingly.

Castiel glanced up at Sam quietly and then back down at Dean.

Dean looked between the two of them and something much stronger than simple betrayal flashed in the depths of his eyes, but he slammed down the emotion so fast that it almost made a physical sound. "You... you knew about this?" He asked Castiel, his face straining to remain calm but the tension between his eyebrows spoke volumes. The demon blood had always been bad, but Sam didn't seem to understand that that wasn't all that this was about. This was about using powers--powers that made him, marked him, as something else. Something other than human.

"So, your powers just suddenly woke up because you were so heartbroken over my disappearance? Well, that's great for you," Dean spit, sounding so very critical and incredulous.

"Your death, Dean. I thought you died! What else was I supposed to think? You and Cas suddenly disappeared as Dick blew up!" Sam flung his arms wide, hopeless as he remembered that moment.

"But you didn't know, Sam!" No. There was no way that he was letting Sam get off with that. "You didn't know and you didn't check to make sure. I mean, I'm glad, ok. I'm glad you didn't make a deal with a demon or something else, but did you even try to see if I wasn't dead but gone?"

"Dean..." Sam took a deep breath, trying so hard to control his emotions which were swiftly morphing into anger. He was always so angry, and he couldn't blame that on the demon blood any longer. "I already apologized about it, there's nothing I can do now to change the past. I thought you were dead. Everyone else was."

"Yeah, well, Iwasn't," He replied, his voice deathly low.

Suddenly something snapped and the door to the motel room blew open, deadbolt ripped straight through the frame. Sam knew as soon as it happened that he'd lost, that Dean wasn't going to understand. He could see it in Dean's face.

"Some stellar control you've got there."

The situation devolved quickly after Dean spoke, and Castiel felt as if he'd taken his own sword to the gut. His fault. It was his fault, completely his fault, and now the situation was spiraling out of control faster than he knew how to manage. The emotions were volatile and burned hot between the boys, and only flared when Dean knew that Castiel had been privy to the knowledge that Sam couldn't share with Dean just yet. Dean didn't seem to understand or care that Sam's powers didn't make Sam a monster; after all, Dean didn't consider psychics monsters, or prophets. Apparently, that didn't matter when it came to Sam. That or the fact that he had no control that powers had manifested in the first place.

There was nothing he could do to stop the escalating fight. He'd been stuck in purgatory with Dean, he didn't know what Crowley had told Sam after they'd disappeared. He racked his brain for anything to say, anything at all to calm them both down, anything to get them to remember that they were brothers and should not be fighting like this. He did not begrudge Sam for not trying to find him. But then again, he wasn't Sam's brother, hadn't been through the same things. He understood, though, that even if Sam had looked there wasn't much he could have done.

He flinched away from the door as it blew open, eyes wide as they darted back to Sam and Dean before he stepped between them not caring that he was shorter than either. Unseen, his wings unfurled between them as if he could protect them from each other.

"Stop!" Castiel growled out. "Just stop. Please. Dean, you asked Sam to tell you the truth. You gave him time to do it. He is telling you the truth, and that truth has no bearing on his soul. There are humans in this world born with powers, or they come into powers. Prophets, Psychics, are they monsters to you? Do you blame Sam for the circumstances of his? He possessed them before Azazel fed him blood, and the blood only made them more powerful. Sam has decided to work on his control. I will be aiding him," he explained in clipped sentences.

Dean stared down at Castiel for a long time, taking deep breaths to try and calm down some. Castiel didn't understand, couldn't understand what it was like to be charged with keeping your brother human, with making sure that if he became something evil you were the one who had to kill him. And Dean never wanted to kill Sam, couldn't do it in the end, even when Lucifer was wearing him like a well-trimmed tuxedo. He'd failed in everything he was supposed to do.

Now he was just supposed to accept that Sam's powers weren't something to be left alone, something that you did your best not to ever touch?

So why did the freakin' angel have to have a point?

"No... they're not," he finally said through thin lips. Missouri had never been a monster, just a powerful psychic who had done so much to help them. Or Pamela, who'd given her life to help them stop the breaking of the seals.

But this was Sam.

"Dean, listen. You don't need to be ok with any of this. I just thought I owed you an explanation before I started training them," Sam said in a hushed voice.

Oh, hell no. Accepting that Sam's powers were randomly becoming active again was one thing, a very disturbing, possibly bad sign thing, but training them was a whole 'nother beast. But from another swift look from Castiel, he stopped his next tirade short.

Castiel finally lowered his stance to something less confrontational as Dean took in his word and absorbed them. He couldn't pretend to understand what Dean was feeling, but words said in anger still hurt, still meant something even if both parties wanted to believe they didn't. Carefully calming his own expression he simply watched and waited as the elder Winchester’s breathing slowly calmed (at least a little). Progress, though slow, was being made. He could feel the hesitance, the trepidation, the revulsion even as he could see his words beginning to make sense. He sighed lightly.

"Good. You're correct. They were not, and neither is you brother," Castiel reassured the hunter, emphasizing the word brother to remind them both of just what they were.

Castiel glanced back at Sam slowly as the younger man spoke and closed his eyes for a moment, knowing that they hadn't be the right words to pick, and selecting his own quickly to explain. He cut Dean off with a look, before speaking again.

"It is necessary that he learn to control them, Dean. Otherwise, that happens." He nodded at the door before looking back up at Dean. "It is more dangerous to leave them unchecked. He needs to know what he is capable of, and how to control it, or else others will suffer when he cannot," he breathed. "It is a powerful weapon, and it is always better to know how to use a weapon correctly than not at all. I understand your hesitance. I can see you are not happy with it but for Sam's peace of mind, for my own, and for the safety of others it is something he needs to learn. "

Dean could see that there was nothing he could say to stop Sam from doing this, especially if even the angel was on his side. So he simply shook his head and held up his hands. "All right. Nothing I say is going to make a difference, so do what you want." He let out an unsteady breath and brushed past Sam and Castiel, making his way for the open door. "You always do anyways," Dean added in a muted tone. Then with his hand on the door handle, he looked back. "I'm going out."

The door slammed closed behind him.

Sam looked at the door for a long time before nodding silently and closing his eyes. Yeah, that had gone about how he'd expected. Well, better than if Dean had punched him again, but at least then he wouldn't feel as guilty as he did right now.

Castiel watched as the door bounced slowly back open with the jam too destroyed to hold it and took a deep breath, giving a small sigh. To him it felt like a victory, albeit a small one. Dean was angry, but they had both known he would be before the conversation even began. Perhaps with a walk and the fresh air outside, he could begin to see the logic of their arguments instead of simply growing angrier and doing something he would regret. Perhaps he would come back supporting the idea, though it may be a little too much to hope for. Still, that was the nature of hope and even Castiel couldn't ignore what little he had.

Working his hands gracefully through the air he repaired the jam enough to hold the door and then pulled it closed gingerly without ever physically touching it, before turning to face Sam who stood with his eyes closed and his jaw set. "He... just needs time. Dean is not stupid. He will understand if he gives it some thought," he murmured, hoping that Dean would not make a liar of him.

"Are you... alright?" he asked after another moment. "Do you need anything?"

"I think you're underestimating how stubborn he can be," Sam replied with a sad laugh. He opened his eyes and looked down at Castiel. "I'm just glad I didn't tell him what happened with Amelia. Who knows what he would have done then." Sitting down on the edge of the bed he reached out a hand towards Castiel's sleeve and pulled slightly, wanting nothing more than to rest his head against the angel and forget half of what had just been said.

"I really hope you're right though, Castiel. I really do."

Was he all right? Well, Dean hadn't called him a monster or thrown down ultimatums, but it was still painfully obvious what he thought about Sam. How were you supposed to feel when your own brother could admit that if anyone else had powers they were fine, but when you do... How do you deal with that?

"I spent some time with him in Purgatory, I believe I know more than you think," the angel murmured with a slight smile. "Though, you are correct. He is stubborn," he offered as Sam's eyes finally peeled open. "He will need time. If you wish to tell him about Amelia, it may be wisest to do so after you have gotten your powers under control and proven it to him." Turning and backing to the bed, sitting slowly and already sure he knew what Sam wanted. He'd comforted Sam a lot recently and hidden his own inner turmoil in the long nights he spent awake, though he had no doubt that Sam would offer him comfort should he ask for it. Something in the angel was still slightly prideful and he was like a wounded animal hiding his weaknesses rather than exposing them.

Shifting, he slid an arm around Sam's lower back as best as he could, offering his shoulder should Sam want it. "You are his brother. Despite the things he has called you, and despite the things you have called him, you are still working together. He is hurt, but he will understand. Some part of him already must. If he truly felt you were a monster... Neither of you would be here now," he whispered, knowing that was the truth. If Dean had considered Sam a monster first, and not his brother, the whole story would have ended years ago.

Sam listened carefully, trying to believe the reassurances that Castiel was giving him. It was true, Dean had spent a year in Purgatory and it had changed him. As much as he tried to play off that he was fine, Dean was different.

Both he and Dean were vastly different people than the boys they'd been when Dean first broke into his apartment at Stanford. How had they changed so much in so few years? Dying multiple times and saving the world might have had something to do with it, but he couldn't help thinking they were too young to feel this old.

He leaned forward and sunk against Castiel's smaller frame, folding himself against him. "You're right. We wouldn't." But neither would all the mistakes and deaths they'd left in their wake. Sam wasn't quite so naive to think the entire world would have been better off it they'd never been alive, but some days it felt that way.

Though Castiel's vessel was significantly smaller than Sam, the strength of the angel was nothing to scoff at. He didn't even sink the slightest bit when Sam curled against him. Folding his wings gently over Sam, though he knew the mortal couldn't see or feel them, he closed his own eyes as they both thought about the situation. Shifting deliberately to make Sam more comfortable, the angel swallowed and looked up at the ceiling, thinking of how much both men had changed and grown.

"The things you have seen and fought through, the things you have struggled with... I wish there was more I could do. You both have been unfairly burdened," he finally said lowering his eyes to the carpet, feeling shame for his own part in some of those trials.

Still they carried on, making sacrifices, asking for nothing though the job they did was mostly thankless. He admired them, he realized, strong despite their weaknesses, able to carry on even through the darkest hours. Still able to fight when lesser men would claim there was nothing left worth fighting for. The angel closed his blue eyes, sending another silent prayer to a God that he no longer believed in.

If there is place to be saved in Heaven, save it for the Winchesters. I would give my own soul to see them at peace once their fight is over.

Sam hated how powerless this all made him feel, so vulnerable when he really shouldn't be. He had fought his way through so much, just like John had always taught him to. What good would it do to think about how unfair their lives had been? It didn't change the fact. Picking his head back up, he looked at Castiel and shook his head. "Hey, you haven't exactly gotten a much better shake than we have. I mean, you've died, what, three times already? None of us have had an easy life, and somehow I can't see this ending anyway but bloody."

Pulling away slightly, he smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "So we do the best we can. It just figures that every time I try to get away from all this, something happens to drag me back in. But pitying myself, not gonna happen." And while the smile wasn't reflected in his eyes, there was a stern determination there. "So I'm gonna train my powers and show the entire world that I'm not just some freak, not just some monster. I'm... I'm not just the sum of what's happened to me."

"So... can I count on you to be there beside me, Cas?"

Castiel looked to Dean's empty bed as Sam spoke, his own eyes reflecting the soul-deep weariness that plagued him constantly. He wasn't physically exhausted, but mentally, emotionally. He wished that he'd never been brought back. He sighed and turned to look at Sam once more. "I am an angel. It... has been my duty from the day I was brought into existence to serve. I have failed in that, multiple times. I've even had the audacity to call myself God. I know I have done wrong, Sam, and I will do everything in my power to make it up to you and Dean. To give you what you deserve. Even if I have to offer my grace, I will find a way."

His voice was urgent but truthful, and he turned to Sam. "You are not a freak, nor are you a monster. You are one of the strongest mortals I have ever met, or even seen, out of all my years of watching, Sam," he breathed looking the younger Winchester in the eyes and giving a smile.

"I will be here until it is impossible for me to be," he promised weakly, hoping that it was one he would never have to break.

"Cas, you don't have anything to make up to me. I thought I'd made that clear already." Sam pulled back a little further, dropping his arms from around Castiel so that he could really look at him. "If I'm not a monster, then you're not a failure."

There was no doubt in his mind that without Castiel he would have lost Dean again, but somehow he felt that even if Dean did walk out on him, Cas might not. It was a strange thought, and he wondered if that's what unconditional love really was. Castiel didn't promise forever, but he promised as long as he could, which sounded about right.

He leaned forward, moving a hand around the back of Castiel's neck and placed a chaste kiss against his forehead. Leaving his lips there for a moment he whispered, "Thank you, Cas, you have no idea what that means to me."

Castiel smiled again and glanced away anyway, sighing as Sam pulled back. He wasn't used to being praised or reassured, but it still felt nice, even if Sam could not grasp the magnitude of his own sins. It felt nice to know that at least someone didn't believe he was the failure that he was. Looking into Sam's eyes, he saw something there he hadn't seen before, a knowledge that they may be so very different but they were still very alike. Even more so than he and Dean. His fondness for this Winchester, his protectiveness, had grown exponentially over a short time.

So he let himself close his eyes and believe for just a few moments that he was forgiven. That he was not Fallen, that he was not marked, that he was just... Castiel. Not wretched, not traitor, not  broken. Just Castiel.

He found himself leaning into the kiss on his forehead, eyes dropping closed as his lips parted slightly, taking a little breath as if all the forgiveness he needed was wrapped up in one small action. He lifted his hand to Sam's elbow, almost clinging to it, fingers holding onto the cloth tightly at the bend. "I believe I do, because I believe it means the same to me," he breathed.

Sam had spent the last year living a life with someone, even if it was just in his head, and being this close to Castiel reminded him of that loss, that emptiness. When the angel didn't push him away or seem horrified by the kiss, he thought maybe, just maybe, Castiel was as lonely as he was; especially with what he was saying. "Cas." Swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat he looked down at Castiel's lips. "Do... do angels ever kiss?"

It might be a stupid question, but he was fairly certain that if he leaned down to Castiel right now and the man flew away in surprise or rejection that he simply wouldn't be able to take it. Not now. So he wanted to be careful, and do this right. He'd already fallen too fast, too hard with monsters and demons and that had never gone well. He wanted to be careful, not just because he valued what Castiel did for him, but because of what he meant to him. It wasn't everyday that you're given an angel to tell you that you aren't everything you fear yourself to be.

Castiel’s lips remained parted as Sam spoke his name, but his eyes finally opened again as the rest of the question was asked. Blue eyes flickered over hazel, and Castiel remembered kissing Meg, kissing his wife, he remembered Jimmy's kisses with his wife. He remembered many kisses, and they had all been... He didn't know how to describe them. Beautiful in their own ways? He glanced down at Sam's lips and swallowed slightly before nodding. "Yes," he whispered, almost hoarsely. "Some angels even take mates." It wasn't really a suggestion, just a casual observation. The angel wondered if Sam even knew what he was asking, if he was too emotionally distraught to care. Castiel had never seen Sam interested in anything but women, and though he was more attracted to a soul than the physical body that housed it, he had never been with a male.

His fingers tightened slightly on Sam's jacket, and his breathing grew a little deeper as the thought of kissing Sam curled in the back of his mind. He thought of the connection he felt with the hunter, the ease he felt wrapping Sam in his embrace. He thought of the hours they'd spent together, just holding one another as Sam recovered. Somehow, a kiss seemed right. He half hoped that Sam was thinking the same thing, why else would he bring it up? But part of him was cautious as well. Should he allow Sam to claim more of his heart than he already held? Would he be further ostracized for loving a mortal?

His voice was barely there as he spoke again on an exhale, breathless and soft, "Why?"

Sam smirked, ever so slightly, eyes a little darker as they dilated. "Really? Because I'd like to kiss you and I was hoping that you wouldn't disappear on me." And then his mind caught up to what Castiel had said in between those two statements: mates. He didn't know if he was looking for that much commitment but, well, he might not be averse to it. Honestly the thought of sex with Castiel was doing some very unfair things to his thought process altogether.

So he raised his other hand up to the angel's chin and leaned down to kiss him, softly at first, hoping so much that he wasn't the only one who was interested in this. He'd always thought of angels as being aromantic, seeing as they were asexual in their spiritual state, but the idea that they mated was rather proof against that theory.

And not just mated, they took mates, which sounded a bit more serious.

Castiel stared up at Sam quietly, almost innocently, feeling his gut clench in an unfamiliar manner. All he could manage was a tiny shake of his head. No, he wouldn't go anywhere. He already felt like he was locked in place by the younger Winchester's gaze, and the thought, the rising probability that he was going to be kissed by the man opened his eyes to just exactly what he'd been feeling and how it had grown so different from his love for Dean. This love was the love of two warriors, forged on a battlefield, who needed one another to get back home at all, much less safely. The hand on the back of his neck became so much different, turning from platonic to something more at the drop of a hat.

He decided he didn't care whether or not this would be wrong in the long run, and maybe he should have, but he simply didn't. It felt right at that moment. It was an itch in his bones, and it needed to be scratched, damn those who would think him lesser for it. He felt a sizzle lace its way down his spine as their lips touched, and his hand tightened again at the softness of it, the gentle vulnerability that it elicited from him. Soon he was returning it, deepening it, his eyes closed as he lost himself far too quickly in it. This went even a step beyond physical reassurance. A kiss was proof that not only was Sam not repulsed by him, the human actually enjoyed his company enough to want more.

His fingers dropped, and both hands slipped to the open edges of Sam's jacket, using the leverage to pull himself closer. The angel didn't stop to think if Sam might find him too eager or too desperate, and simply enjoyed what he could, while he could.

Sam couldn't describe how good it felt to have someone who actively wanted him again, to know that this was real and outside of his own head. When Castiel pulled himself closer, Sam snarled against his mouth and moved his hands down to the angel's hips, pulling him practically into his lap. He needed the angel close, needed the assurance that he wouldn't leave, wouldn't disappear like a vision in the night. It was as if he'd become a magnet as he found himself drawn impossibly to Castiel.

"You're a lot better at this than I thought you would be," he said against his lips as his smirk widened into something a little more dangerous. Nipping at Castiel's lower lip, he enjoyed the new sensation of stubble catching on his face. This might have been different than what he was used to, but he found that he didn't mind in the least. This was the angel who had pulled his body from the Cage, who'd taken away his madness, and who was even now trying to convince him that he was not what his fate dictated. All he wanted to do was show Castiel how much he appreciated him, needed him and his continued presence in his life.

So he slipped his tongue out and licked at Castiel's lips, enjoying the texture of the dry lips and the subtle flavor, so different than lip gloss and pearls.

There was still a voice in the back of his head that kept screaming that this was an angel he held in his hands, whose hips he was gripping onto as if he was a drowning man. Thankfully, Sam had always been good at giving into temptation, and Castiel was the sweetest temptation he'd come across in so very long.

Abruptly, Castiel was straddling the hunter, still gripping as his jacket, still kissing him deeply, and it took several seconds for him to realize that Sam had lifted him there. The hands on his hips were tight, almost to the point of bruising, but he didn't feel any pain; only the sense of need in them that he shared. The thoughts and worries he'd harbored just a few seconds earlier ran out of his mind as easily as water ran through open fingers and the angel found himself burying one hand in Sam's hair at his nape, fisting in the soft locks gently as his other slid around Sam's broad shoulders to keep himself steady. He'd certainly never been in this position before, and it was incredibly titillating, so very new.

Castiel pressed the length of his body against Sam's roughly, feeling every muscle, every breath, every heartbeat with his angelic power.  Panting as they broke to speak, he shivered as he reminded Sam quietly, "I did have a wife," his voice a low, husky growl.  Though he cared for her still, he did not consider her his wife after he'd regained his memories, reasoning that the part of him that was truly him recognized her as little more than another mortal, even if Emanuel had loved her.

He, like Sam, was enjoying the new sensation of stubble on his cheek and jaw and he shuddered roughly, realizing he had never wanted someone quite like this in all of his existence. He had never bonded with someone in such a way, didn't think it was possible for an angel like him.

Clearly, he had been wrong, and he gave the softest of grunts as his digits tightened in Sam's hair and he nipped the hunter's upper lip before soothing away the pinch with a soft suckle.

Sam felt Castiel shift against him and all of the blood promptly rushed from his head. Redoubling his attentions on the angel's mouth, he slipped his tongue against Castiel's lips and pushed playfully. A frustrated groan sounded deep in his throat as Castiel sucked his lip, and he pulled the man even closer, thumbs starting to rub slow circles into the hollows just inside the crests of his hips.

"I really need you to not talk about you having a wife," he said with a throaty growl.

Then Castiel was pulling his hair and he decided that, yeah, thought processes weren't worth it right now. Moving strictly on instinct he pushed his tongue into Castiel's mouth and all he wanted to do was drown in the angel's essence. As he swiped his tongue over the soft palate, he finally felt it, a crackle inside Castiel that tasted like the end of days and raw power.

He was pretty certain that he'd just tasted Grace, and if that wasn't enough to drive him over the edge then nothing was. Thankfully he was having no problem in that department.

Castiel gave a soft moan as he was dragged closer, able to feel even more of Sam now that he was flush against him. His body responded to the growl from the hunter and he pressed in, shivering at the heat between them, his own control over his celestial energies fading. His vessel nearly hummed with a combination of a dozen things as he kissed Sam again and again, delving deep as his fingers tangled more thoroughly in the Winchester's hair. He would have time to clear his head and think about everything else later, right now was for him.

He set his hands on Sam's shoulders and pressed down, until Sam was lying back on the bed, pressing his hips roughly into large hands as he bent low to continue the kiss, all but lying out over top of him. His trench coat spread out over both of them, edges fluttering on the bed as his continued to taste his friend, not realizing that his grace was tangible to Sam.

Reaching down to cover Sam's hands with his own, using some of his own strength to press the hunter's thumbs harder into the divots of his hips, he buried his face in the crook of Sam's neck momentarily, panting hard into the muscle and tendon there, nearly overwhelmed with his own passion. It had never been like this before, and he felt almost dizzy already. On one hand, he didn't want to push too hard, or too fast, but on the other, all he wanted was more of whatever this was.

Sam was just about ready to buck against the angel and switch their positions when a key sounded in the lock. Thankfully all his years of training to be a hunter had made him painfully aware of his surroundings, even in cases like this. His eyes flew to Castiel as he was immediately torn between pushing the angel off of him or pulling him closer. Having Dean walk back in on him like this was about the last thing he needed right now, but... Castiel was a heavy weight reminding him exactly how much he wanted this.

The decision was taken from him however when Castiel swiftly vanished, conveniently turning on the television to some appropriate entertainment.

Thank the Lord for angels.

So while Cas' leaving was probably the correct move, Sam couldn't help but feel a stab of irrational hurt; but that faded as the door opened and Dean walked into the room. Yup, immediately he was filled with dread.

This still wasn't a great scene for Dean to walk into. Please let Dean not look too close.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said as he stepped into the room, "have you seen my wallet? I got to the bar and realized that I'd left it..." His words suddenly stopped as his gaze fell upon his younger brother. "Oh, come on, Sam. Can't you do that in the bathroom at least."

Sam scrambled to sit up, which also wasn't a great decision, but he steadied his face as Dean looked away to scrounge around for his wallet. "Sorry." He coughed to clear his throat. "Sorry about that, thought you would be gone for a bit longer than that..."

"Yeah, I can see that," Dean said, chuckling slightly now that the immediate shock was gone and an awkward tension filled the air. "Ah, here it is..." Picking up his wallet he stuffed it into his back pocket and headed back for the door. "Don't make too big a mess, Sammy," He teased as he left.

Falling back against the bed again, Sam sighed and stared at the ceiling. Yeah, so this was going to be an interesting development.

Castiel heard the key in the lock, and though he reacted more sluggishly than he meant too -he had to pause time for about two seconds actually-, he had got out the door before Dean got in, flipping the TV to a channel that just might explain Sam's state. It had been too close a call, and the angel found himself in the same clearing from earlier, falling sideways to lean heavily on the trunk of the tree, his mind almost completely fuzzed out by his desire.

He hadn't waited around to hear the conversation, his guilt and embarrassment at almost being caught was almost too much for him to handle.

This was wrong. So wrong, but so right. Already the thrum of his grace was being reeled back in and he was rubbing his face with both hands, straightening up to begin pacing around the clearing. What the hell had he thought he'd been doing?

His lips and jaw still tingled with the feeling of Sam's stubble, and the angel sat on the ground pulling his knees to his chest and taking big, deep breaths. He needed time to think about this. He needed to approach it rationally. This couldn't be a good idea for either of them, could it? Oh, but the feeling of those hands on his hips, that body against his... It was the closest thing to heaven he'd felt in so long.

Bowing his head, he prayed, mostly out of habit, to God for guidance, knowing he would receive none.

Sam had a tortuous night, and had awoken blearily after a meager two hours of sleep. He'd wanted to go to sleep but he'd been plagued by thoughts the entire night long. But every time he closed his eyes, his thoughts switched to a slightly different caliber and then he didn't want to sleep.

So he'd largely just stared at the ceiling and felt the empty expanse of bed next to him, mind chasing him in circles. Because, yes, it was a good idea that Castiel had left before Dean walked in the door, but he hadn't come back. What was he supposed to make of that? Did that mean that the angel regretted what they'd done and was so repulsed by getting carried away by his vessel's base instincts that he wanted to be as far away from Sam as possible? Or maybe he was embarrassed and couldn't face Sam because he didn't know what had happened.

Now he wasn't exactly sure, but Sam thought that Dean had once told him that the wife Castiel had when he thought he was Emmanuel was celibate or something like that. So maybe that... nope. Jimmy's wife hadn't been celibate, they'd had two children together. So at least Jimmy knew sex. And, no, he really didn't need to think about the concept that Castiel might have his vessel awake in his head being grossed out by all of this that was going on without his consent, and possibly against his will.

Oh, great, that was a possibility. Maybe Castiel liked him but didn't feel it was fair to his vessel to get anything on.

So Sam pushed himself from his bed and went for a morning jog. He appreciated nature around him, appreciated every single attractive female jogger he came across, and finally got a coffee to appreciate on his way back to the motel room. It would be safe to say he was very appreciative of his life, especially the part where his angel... not his angel--Castiel, still hadn't popped back in, even at the room.

Sitting with his laptop, coffee and a small frown he brooded as he read news sites for any hope of a case to distract him. Thankfully, Dean had come back early in the morning smelling of booze and sex and had promptly fallen comatose on his bed, and he still hadn't woken up to notice Sam's silent grousing.


	6. Blood of the Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam learns that his demon powers aren't the only ones he has.

"Hello, Sam," Castiel said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands clasped in front of him. His head was down; he couldn't meet the hunter's eyes after last night. He was embarrassed, fully convinced he may have permanently crippled whatever friendship they had with his overt hunger. He had spent the whole night alone where he had sat simply thinking. About Dean, about Sam, about the angels... About whatever it was that had happened between he and Sam. He knew what sex was, but the passion that had blazed through him was nearly as strong as the passion he’d had for his father as a newly minted angel eons ago. It had caught him completely by surprise, tore down walls he didn't know existed, opened his eyes to new emotions, or rather, new facets of older emotions.

Part of him wondered how he could possibly be thinking of taking a mate after all these years, and now of all times, for he had certainly come to the conclusion that was what he wanted. If he were to have Sam, he would want to keep him to himself.

What about Dean, who was already having trouble coming to terms with the fact that Sam's powers were back? How would he handle knowing that not only did Castiel encourage his brother to train his powers, he had also encouraged the physicality that had occurred last night. How would Dean feel if he thought a fallen angel was seducing his brother? Their relationship had been tenuous since he'd told Dean the truth about Purgatory, and it only got more strained the past few weeks with the time he was spending with Sam.

The angel looked thoughtfully at Dean for a moment before reaching out to touch the hunter's forehead, just enough to clear off the worst of the headache Dean would be feeling when he woke but not enough to wake him yet. A stray leaf still clung to the back of Castiel's trench coat, a small clue as to where he'd been. Shifting, he turned to face Sam though he did not look him in the eyes.

"When would you like to begin training your powers?" he asked lowly. "After all of your memories have been returned?"

He wasn't exactly sure what to say. What did one say in such a strange situation?

Sam could feel the change in the room as Castiel appeared, but he stubbornly kept his eyes fixed to his screen and the particularly bland article about a grocer who was certain that his store was being cleaned nightly by 'little people'. It had initially sounded like it was going to be a job, even with how much Dean hated the faeries; but, in fact, the man's store was being cleaned by a troupe of little people. Midgets. Midgets who randomly cleaned his store to make up for the fact that they occasionally shoplifted. It was one of the strangest articles he'd read in weeks, and for someone who spent a good portion of his life searching for supernatural occurrences, that was saying something.

Out of his peripheral vision he saw Castiel touching Dean, likely to do some nice angelic thing, and it sent a pang of jealousy and confusion through him. _Really Sam? We're gonna be jealous of the angel touching our brother now?_ A sarcastic voice asked him, and he had to agree that was pretty sad.

When Castiel finally addressed him, he looked up but carefully tried to pretend that everything was normal and that he wasn't drowning in a sea of mixed signals. "Oh." Of course, he hadn’t expected Cas to say good morning or ask him how he was doing after being left alone last night. No, of course not. "It would probably be better to get training on them as soon as possible. Never know when they might save my life in the middle of a job."

Maybe if he was really lucky, he'd learn to read minds, or discover a power that helped him not get attracted to supernatural beings, because that just kept working out great. His track record was starting to look like the setup for a bad joke.

Castiel knew he had chosen the wrong thing to say the instant the non-committal "Oh" came out of Sam's mouth. The angel's shoulders dropped in defeat and he cast his gaze to the floor, sullen and quiet. His fingers flexed and he glanced up at the hunter for just a moment before looking back down, taking a deep breath and setting his eyes on Dean once more. He felt terrible, uncertain, wondering what he'd done wrong.

"I hope... you... didn't have any trouble last night," Cas all but stuttered out, remembering his quick exit. He didn't know whether Dean had stayed or not but he'd kept his ear out for his name all night, and Sam had never called for him. Judging from the amount of alcohol Dean had in his system, he hadn't stayed; but then, why hadn't Sam called him back? The obvious answer was that Sam had second thoughts just as he had and had decided against it. While it was probably for the best... It still hurt.

Heart aching from this apparent rejection, though he'd had second thoughts himself, the angel sat back on the edge of the bed with a silent sigh, blinking as he noticed the leaf and picked it off. He twirled it by the stem in his fingers slowly. "We can start whenever you are ready."

"Didn't get much sleep really..." And Sam just hoped that didn't sound as bitter as it did in his head. All he needed was to act like a little bitch about this. He would just play it cool and not make a fuss. So Castiel regretted last night, it didn't have to mean anything. It was just a kiss.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'll just write up a note for Dean, 'cause I doubt it'd be a good idea to train in here." Forcing himself to stop looking at the angel he closed his laptop and hunted around for the complementary notepad he'd seen earlier. Apparently Dean had knocked it off sometime after he'd come back in. Jotting down a quick message, he tore off the sheet and placed it on his bed.

"So, how do we go about this?" Ruby had always got him hopped up on demon's blood and then explained very specific things for him to focus on.

Castiel almost winced at Sam's tone, feeling as if he'd been delivered an invisible blow. He felt Sam blaming him and while he blamed himself, it was still unnerving to have Sam push that guilt on him. He swallowed, and then tipped his head back before straightening his spine as Sam used sarcasm to guard. The angel simply nodded.

Castiel reached out after the moment Sam had dropped the note on his bed and abruptly they were in the forest again. Soothing, calm, surrounded by birds and wildlife the morning sun filtering through the treetops in a lovely manner. Castiel dropped the leaf and watched it flutter to the ground before giving Sam an answer.

"The easiest way would be for me to see what abilities you have by searching...." he started, turning to face Sam. "But that would mean touching your soul," he finished. Really, it was much easier and much quicker than trying out any number of abilities, only to not know if any still lay dormant.

But there he was again, suggesting another way to hurt Sam even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, especially after last night. His eyes flicked up and his breath nearly caught in his chest when his eyes met Sam's, but he held them with effort.

"Touching my soul?" Sam remembered when Castiel had last hunted around inside him for his soul, and while the angel hadn't found what wasn't there, the pain was likely to be the same this time around. "Alright," he said simply, knowing that this really did make the most sense. So he unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of his belt loops before doubling it over.

He looked like he might have more to say, but instead he just shook his head and placed the belt between his teeth. Sitting down with a tree to his back, he nodded that he was ready.

Now to just pray that touching his soul wouldn't instantly make Castiel privy to everything about him. "Do eet," he said around the belt.

Castiel watched as Sam considered the option, half of him hoping that Sam would refuse. He had no wish to put his friend in pain again, not after what had happened between them last night, but he had sworn to help Sam in every way possible. His heart dropped as the hunter undid his belt and put it in his mouth, his back to a tree for support. As he did when he was unlocking Sam's memories, the fallen Seraph knelt before the hunter again with a sigh of resignation, swallowing hard.

Reaching out with one hand to run his fingertips gently along Sam's cheek before cupping it, an unnecessary gesture of affection as well as reassurance, he pressed his palm flat to Sam's chest before leaning forward to kiss his forehead. "Forgive me." Again the apologies spilled out of him, and again he meant them with every fiber of his being. This was no trifling pain, this wasn't the emotional pain of a memory. This was real, pure, physical agony, and he would be the cause of it.

Pulling his hand back and pointing his fingers, he slowly sank his hand into Sam's chest, sliding past organ and bone to find the little spot every soul was nestled in. Castiel tried to ignore Sam as best he could, working the soul with his fingers, poking it, prodding it, pressing it to fish out which abilities Sam was in possession of. He also checked to see which were dormant and coaxed them gently to wake with small portions of his own grace. They would be weak at first, but Sam would be able to access them. Breathing harder as the efforts took their toll, he finally withdrew, swaying slowly as he looked up at Sam with wonder.

"You... are truly special," he murmured in awe, giving a slight smile before looking down. "Are you allright?"

To say that Sam was in pain was as unnecessary as saying that water was wet. Every single muscle in his body clenched against the fiery agony that radiated from his chest. Spidery tendrils shot down through his arms and legs as his mind tried to find a way to stop the terrible pain. His jaw was clenched so hard that he was fairly certain that the teeth marks would never come out of this belt.

Hell, he was probably fortunate that he wasn't biting clean through it.

After half a minute his mind completely shut down and his only thought was pain. At a minute he was close to passing out. When Castiel finally pulled back out after a minute and twenty three seconds, he found himself panting and weak. He was drenched in a cold sweat and felt as if he'd just competed in a triathlon.

He dimly heard Castiel's words and looked up at him under heavy eyelids. When he found his voice, it was hoarse from the screams that he hadn't allowed himself to voice. "That so? S'a good thing?" Leaning his head back against the tree, he closed his eyes and focused on just breathing again. Without thinking about it one of his hands reached out and found Castiel's forearm and he held it to reassure himself that everything was going to be ok.

Castiel could see the pain etched into Sam's face, every line a reminder that he'd harmed his friend more, he'd caused more agony in a few moments than Sam had probably ever experienced at one time, except for his time in the cage. He truly repulsed himself. Brushing Sam's hair back from his eyes, he glanced down as a hand reached for his arm and shifted his own to take the other’s elbow in turn, squeezing it lightly.

"Yes, Sam. You have many of the abilities of an angel," Castiel breathed. How this had come to pass he had no idea, but the thought was astounding. Sam may as well have been an angel in a human vessel; aside from the lack of wings, he had several of the celestial talents angels possessed. This may be easier than he had dreamed. Checking Sam's vitals with a sweep, he let the man rest for another minute or so before speaking again.

"Dreamwalking. Electronic Manipulation, Regeneration," he started, listing what he had found in a voice that was still amazed. "Telekinesis. Telepathy. Cryokinesis." He took another breath. "Greater than human strength and stamina. Enhanced Perception. Even the killing touch," he continued. "I awakened everything that was dormant. They are at their lowest levels. You will have to work at them but you can become more proficient with training."

Sam listened to Castiel list off his abilities and he couldn't help laugh a bit manically at the scenario. "So, not only do I have all these great demonic powers, but somehow I can tap into the angel frequency too? That normal for vessels?" Opening his eyes, he stared up at Castiel and then swept his vision down to where their arms were holding each other.

_Don't think anything of it_. Physical comfort was something that Castiel always used to reassure him after causing him any pain. Didn't mean anything.

"I wonder if Dean will be any happier to hear that not all my powers are so inherently evil." But, of course, neither of them had a great love for angels either, so maybe that wouldn't mean much. Pretty much every angel they'd ever met was a dick. Well, not so much Castiel, but even he’d had some fairly epic dickish moments, claiming himself to be God chief among them.

Taking another deep breath he placed his free hand on the ground and pushed up, using the tree quite a bit to help balance him as he stood. It was amazing how sore everything was even though the act hadn't even lasted a minute and a half. Apparently, mind-numbing amounts of pain just made everything hurt. Who'd'a'thunk?

"Unless an angel is inhabiting the vessel? No," Castiel replied, staring at Sam as he laughed. How he wished it was a real laugh and not something fake and contrived. Cas continued to watch Sam's expression, even as he looked to where they were still locked together. He didn't want to let go. Now was certainly not the time to be thinking of last night, of how much he wanted to do it again. How much he wanted to see where else it led.

Dean. Of course, Dean, who had interrupted them last night, who had broken them apart when all he wanted was to be closer to Sam. "I'm not certain about Dean," he whispered, "But you... you are incredible. I've never even heard of a human with more than one or two at a time, but you..." Castiel took a breath and tried not to appear so starry-eyed as Sam stood.

What a rare vessel. Perhaps Dean had some talents tucked away somewhere as well. Not that the hunter would ever let him get close enough to find out. He still didn't let go of Sam's elbow, there to steady him if need be, his fingers gentle but strong. "Your perception of this world will begin to change Sam," he informed the young Winchester. "You'll be able to see things a human can't soon. If something alarms you, just... call for me and ask." His fingers squeezed again lightly as he continued to watch the hunter, holding on for just a bit too long to be considered normal.

Castiel's praise was making Sam's stomach do terrible things--terribly distracting things that only served to remind him of last night. However, he'd always gotten into trouble by reading too much into things, so he wasn't going to make the same mistake this time around. Firmly reminding himself that he was putting last night out of his mind, he stood up with Castiel, immensely glad for the hand steadying him. "Well, it's nice to be special without it being a bad thing for once. And here I thought everyone just wanted me for my body."

That would be him flirting. _Yeah, good job there, Sam. Let's flirt just moments after we told ourselves that we're not going to think too much about last night._

Sam realized that he really needed to stop talking to himself.

"So, how do we go about training these? Do I just... think about them or something? Or is this more like muscle groups where you have certain exercises to target different ones?" It would be interesting to learn how to use half of those powers, and amazing to learn the other half, but then one of them caught his attention as he mentally went over the list again. "Cryokinesis... is that common?" He knew that was pretty much control over cold, but he couldn't think of any angels displaying a power like that except, ah, Lucifer.

The angel finally, with great reluctance, released Sam's hand, watching the human with blue eyes that were completely open and still slightly awed. Another small victory was achieved when Sam made a joke, and Castiel understood it though he wondered if Sam thought he truly only wanted him for his body. "I couldn't care less about the appearance of a physical vessel," he muttered, just in case, his smile sheepish but genuine.

The angel didn't know what flirting was, much less realized he could be doing it. It didn't stop him from looking Sam over once though. Though he wasn't particularly attracted to physical bodies, he couldn't help but admit that Sam was in peak physical condition. Well trained, athletic, with every minor grievance healed by an angelic friend, there weren't many like him at all.

"They are mostly telepathic and telekinetic. Some are automatic, like regeneration. Some are learning to control and harness your energy, like the killing touch, and Cryokinesis. Dreamwalking is telepathic, but harder, it's strange to enter another's dreams, you never know what you will find. You will probably have to learn to meditate to begin to fill your energies, which is what an angel uses grace in place of," he explained. "As for Cryokinesis, only one angel I know of has displayed that ability. Lucifer. So it is uncommon. I may only be able to offer limited help there. But you need to rest. A soul-touch is very tiring. You will only want to train at your best. "

"Tiring is putting it lightly," Sam said with a smile to show that he didn't hold it against Castiel in the least. It had been necessary to figure all of this out a hell of alot faster than if they had to just fumble around in the dark. It also probably didn't help that he'd had so little sleep last night. The prospect of all these new powers he could learn really was exciting, which made his current fatigue so annoying.

"Now, with how well I already use my telekinetic powers, I'm assuming the ones based off that are going to be a bit easier to get a handle on?" He asked with genuine curiosity, picking up a rock with his mind and spinning it in lazy circles above his hand.

Then he remembered what the angel had said about his perception. "What exactly am I going to start seeing? I mean, are we talking ghosts and spirits or what?" He wasn't sure what would so alarm him that he'd need to talk to Castiel to understand it, but he wasn't denying the possibility that it could happen. Although he'd already seen more that would scare a man shitless than most people would see in several lifetimes.

Castiel offered a small smile and flexed his fingers. He tried to put the memory of Sam's pain out of his mind, but it was hard, so hard, to know that he was deliberately hurting his friend even if it it was necessary. His eyes traced up to the rock spinning above Sam's hand, and he watched it, lulled by the gentle motions. He sighed and rolled his shoulders back before nodding.

"Probably, yes," he agreed, believing it to be true. "As for your perception, you will begin to see many things. Ghosts, Faerie-folk, Spirits. You will begin to be able to tell who is possessed without relying on them showing you their eyes, or using salt and holy water. You will likely begin to see otherworldly things--Angels. One day you may be able to see my wings," he answered, shifting them behind himself and spreading them though he knew it was unlikely that Sam could see them yet. "That power should manifest on its own."

He used his own powers to pluck up several fallen leaves, spinning them around himself before setting them on fire, displaying his own pyrokinesis briefly. "There are more supernatural creatures around you than you believe at any given moment. It may be disconcerting."

"Well, that should come in handy on hunts. But, yeah, I can certainly see how it'll take some getting used to." Sam wasn't going to touch the fact that he might be able to see Castiel's wings with a ten foot pole because with how much he could see of Cas already, he could hardly imagine how he'd ever stop staring at wings on the man. That had to be playing dirty somehow.

"I mean, Sam, that for every one ghost or faerie that causes a problem, there are a thousand more that do not," Castiel said, focusing his attention back on Sam for the moment. "You will have to learn control. As a hunter, your first instinct will likely be to kill every creature you see. It may be frustrating for you at first. Like there," he pointed to a small tree in the center of the clearing. “That is the home of several faeries. But they are not harming anyone." He could see the little creatures darting about the tree and wondered if Sam could yet. Some were watching the pair suspiciously, but otherwise remained quiet.

It was normal to see such creatures in deep forests.

Letting the ashes that still floated around him drift to the ground, Castiel managed to catch the smile on Sam's face and paused to admire it. It was exactly the sort of smile he hoped to see. True and happy, not forced. It was beautiful in its own way and made the angel hopeful for the future. Perhaps one day he would see that smile made permanent.

Sam watched the idle display of power and smiled. It was amazing how good it felt to just be around someone and use his powers without them freaking out or getting suspicious or what have you. Other hunters would think he was possessed, normal people wouldn't believe their eyes, Dean would get butthurt, and demons... well, they just got hopeful.

It was more than a little discouraging how often he saw hope spark in the eyes of demons when they looked at him, as if they were still certain he would fall and set their father free for a second time.

"Well, sounds like I'll be needing you to stay around for quick transportation if nothing else," he chuckled as he grinned at Castiel, expression just shy of seductive. Was there a way to turn off his attraction to the angel for five minutes? This was ridiculous. They had more important--and less painful--things to focus on. Like heading back to the room and seeing if Dean was still in an booze induced coma.

Shifting and giving another small smile as Sam grinned at him, Castiel wasn't sure exactly what the expression there was, nestled under the good-nature, but he liked it, too. "I believe I can handle that," he said with a nod. "If you want to go now, we can."

Sam stopped to think about that, his eyes slowly panning around the clearing they were in. "I see what you mean. That could get to be a bit of a problem if I'm not careful." At least he wasn't quite of the same mindset as Dean had always been; that anything supernatural wasn't to be trusted and should make way for good old human kind. Well, until he met Benny and was suddenly just fine with vampires.

No, now wasn't the time to be getting angry over that. It really didn't do him any good to go about wondering why Dean was bosom buddies with a vampire.

So instead he nodded to Castiel. "Want to? Not really. But seeing as I'm dead on my feet, it would probably be a good idea to head back to the room and just take a quick nap. You're more than welcome to join me." The words slipped out of his mouth before he'd processed what he was saying, so he was just going to blame how tired he was for that. At this rate, he was beginning to wonder if it wasn't a great miracle that Castiel was the socially inept angel he was. If he'd been any more knowledgeable, like Anna for example, he would either have seriously pissed him off or they'd be having sex every time he opened his mouth. Which probably wouldn't be as good as his mind was trying to make it sound just now.

"Exactly," The fallen seraph said as Sam took in the enormity of what he meant. Knowing Sam was a Hunter, knowing what he'd been trained to do, it would be hard not to shoot first and ask later but Castiel believed he could do it. He tucked his wings in, all of them, folding them to his back. Not that they ever got in the way anyway. Taking a breath and tipping his head back to look at the sky before closing his eyes to just feel the sun on his face until Sam gave him the answer about going to check on Dean, and having a nap.

He glanced at Sam and then down at himself, prodding at his stocks of energy and realizing just how tired he was. Awakening dormant abilities in a soul was hard work, and though he didn't know if he was tired enough to sleep, lying close to Sam sounded better than doing nothing again for hours and hours. Perhaps he could give Sam a short lesson in dreamwalking while he slept. That might please the inquisitive side of him.

"Yes," he finally replied, "I think I will." Reaching out this time to put his fingertips on Sam's shoulder, he spread his wings and flapped, taking them back to the hotel room with the customary flurry of sound. This time he deposited them directly in the room and gave Sam another kind smile.

Sam only had a moment to be surprised that Castiel was planning on taking him up on his offer before the angel lightly touched him and they were hurled across space to another point. Maybe one of these days he'd get around to asking Castiel how that actually worked; whether he was bending space to create a single point to transit through, or he was materializing them in a new location or what. However it worked, it was as miraculous as it was useful.

When he saw the smile Castiel gave him, he couldn't help but return it and clap his shoulder. Then he turned to look for Dean who, as it turned out, had read the note and left one of his own on top of the previous one.

_Gone to the store to get supplies for bloody mary. Also buying pie. If anyone else tries sneaking bites of my pie when it arrives, there will be righteous fury rained down upon you... and a boot in your ass._

_Dean_

Well, that made it a little harder to tell him how the day went. So Sam just grabbed a pencil, turned over Dean's note, and wrote another of his own.

_Trained powers. Found out that some of them are angelic in nature. Going to take a nap. Try not to eat your pie in one sitting. You'll regret it later._

_Sam_

Castiel blinked as Sam slapped his shoulder, and would have turned to look for Dean but he already knew that Dean wasn't there. He moved around to the bed instead, on the side that was not ruffled by Sam's restless sleep, and tried not to stare too hard at the edge he and the Winchester had sat on the night before. He gave a small shiver as he ran his fingertips over it anyway before lying back, turning to face the middle of the bed instead of the wall. Sam was much less boring to look at than the wall.

It was likely that Dean never knew half the things the angel did for him, but he didn't mind too much. As long as the elder Winchester was content, Castiel was happy.

Shifting a bit because his trench coat was more than a little uncomfortable and confining to lie down in, the fallen angel took a deep breath. If this continued and he began to sleep regularly, he would have to find something else to wear.

Nuzzling his cheek down on the pillow he looked up at Sam with one blue eye, not caring for the moment how mussed his hair might be.

As Sam finished up his note, he pulled out his phone to check and see if he'd missed any messages. He saw that his inbox and voicemail were both blessedly empty, so he placed the phone on its charger and walked over to the bed. Having a slightly rumpled angel lying in your bed, he decided, wasn't the best thing for peaceful sleep. Really, it was more the sort of thing that stopped you from sleeping, but he was going to behave himself, slip under the covers, and go to sleep for a few hours.

He sat down on what was becoming 'his side of the bed' in his mind and took off his shoes, placing them neatly next to the nightstand. Then he got up just long enough to pull back the covers and slip inside. It probably wasn't cold enough inside the room that he even needed to be under the thin sheet and tattered blanket but he saw it as a subconscious reminder to his mind that he was here for sleeping, unlike last night.

Looking over, he smiled lazily at Castiel and then looked back up the ceiling before he slid his eyes closed. "Sleep well, pleasant dreams and all that," he mumbled as he swiftly succumbed to sleep, more exhausted from the night before and the soul search than he'd realized.

Castiel watched the human for several moments, his expression as unrevealing as it was the day he'd met the boys.  He stayed silent, not wanting to intrude as the mortal got ready to rest, deciding that it might be best to wait until Sam got at least a few hours of sleep. It was common enough knowledge that humans supposedly needed eight hours of sleep. Though the Winchester boys consistently made due with half that.

His mind had changed gears, shifting from remembering what had happened last night to his continued marveling at Sam's existence, the amount of power he held and the number of abilities. It was confusing to find such a mix of Angel and Demon--the one or two children that had been forged from such union had been hunted relentlessly by both sides. But it was even more confusing to find all these things folded up into a mortal. The angel was torn on what to teach Sam and how to teach it, but he knew that he would have to guard the man closely until the mortal learned to control his powers, at least a little. He might be treated as a threat or a commodity by either side once they found out exactly what Sam was capable of.

He was too lost in thought to respond coherently to the well wishes and just nodded idly as he fought to configure a course of action, a training schedule, the spells he would need to teach Sam, and by the time he focused on the human again he was already asleep.

* * *

 

The angel, as diligent as ever, found himself sitting on the stoop outside waiting for Dean. He had half a mind to hunt him down through the town but the desire to stay close and protect Sam had grown with the revelation that he possessed angelic qualities. He wanted to try and talk to Dean before seeing Sam made the older hunter irrationally angry again.

Dean walked up the path to the motel with two grocery bags swinging from his arm about a half hour after Sam had fallen asleep. As he turned towards the stairs he noticed Castiel and looked around to see if Sam was near. "Hey, Cas. What brings you to our stoop?"

He was about to walk around the angel, but he saw that Castiel didn't want him to go up yet, so he placed his bags down and pulled up some curb next to Cas. "So..." He wasn't exactly sure what they should talk about, but he got the feeling that his friend would bring up whatever was on his mind when he was ready.

Castiel waited calmly, watching over Sam much like the silent stone gargoyles that guarded the magnificent cathedrals humans built. His task had gotten both easier and harder that day and he didn't know where to begin except to be truthful with Dean. He owed him that much. They hadn't had much time to talk alone in months, and Castiel hadn't initiated a private conversation in a long time fearing the reaction he was sure to get.  At that moment, Dean seemed calm enough to approach and even sat by him without attempting to ignore him which gave the angel courage and a little strength.

"Dean, I need you to understand something," Castiel started, wanting to clear the air about certain things first. "When I stayed in purgatory, it wasn't because I didn't care for you. None of it was ever because I didn't care or because you failed. I do not wish you to think that... I needed to pay for my sins, and as far as I am concerned that debt still has not been levied." He stretched his neck up to look at the sky, taking a deep breath and shifting to look at the hunter.

"Secondly, and most importantly, I need you to understand that I know you do not approve of Sam's powers but that will not change my decision to help him. Whether I teach him control or not, they _will_ and _have been_ getting stronger on their own even though he is not actively using them. He needs to start working with them as soon as possible, _before_ they become overwhelming." Castiel swallowed and looked at Dean again.

"You also need to know that while the powers he displays now have seemed largely demonic, Sam also possesses a great many angelic abilities--abilities such as Regeneration, which will help keep him safe." He looked down again with a sigh. "I believe the demon blood he's consumed has had some effect on this. Demonic blood has strengthened those powers while leaving the angelic ones to founder," he explained, hoping to show Dean the silver lining.

Dean sat with his arms resting on his legs, hands dangling uselessly as he listened to the words of the angel. It was some of the same things he'd heard before, but it was no easier to hear them this time around. When Castiel had first explained that Dean hadn't lost his grip but that he had let go, it had nearly broken him. He had viewed Castiel as an ally, a friend, for a long while and even though he had felt betrayed when Castiel had thought himself God--with what he'd done to humanity, to Sam--he'd still _needed_ the angel with him in Purgatory.

He owed a debt to Cas, sure, but more than that he counted him as a part of his family. The pain he'd suffered when he thought he'd failed _another_ member of his family, well, that was what had hurt the worst. Finding out that Castiel had been the one to let go, to abandon him, at least that was something Dean was used to.

There was nothing to say about it though without sounding like a whiny bitch, so he kept his face steady and moved on to the other things that Castiel was saying. Sam had been his responsibility for as long as he could remember, and although there had been times when he'd wanted to just let him go, to let him do what he would when he thought they would be better on their own, there was still that part of him that would _always_ be responsible for Sam. Finding out that Sam had demon blood had been such a weight on his shoulders. Hearing that he now somehow had angel powers was, well, it was an entirely different kind of weight.

"How?" He asked quietly, glancing over at Castiel with narrowed eyes that showed his distrust, not at the angel but at the situation in general. "As far as I ever knew, Sam was 100% corn-fed human, just... different because of Yellow Eyes. And what do you mean by overwhelming?"

The angel had prepared himself for Dean's outrage, and kept his expression steady and strong, even as Dean bit out “How?" He closed his eyes for a moment with another sigh and glanced down, tapping his feet gently as he spoke. He was being honest right now and Dean was seemingly willing to listen which was more than a small blessing in itself.

"What I mean about his powers is not that they _will_ become overwhelming no matter what, it's just that they will if he doesn't work to train them. If they are under his control there is far less danger to those around him than if he were to simply ignore them. What happened with the door yesterday... Sam's powers have been growing although he has not been using them. The excess energy created will lash out in unexpected ways unless he knows how to safely channel it. If he doesn't learn, the repercussions will only grow more dangerous as his power increases. If he learns, he will be able to recognize and correct any energy before it lashes out. "

He hoped he was explaining this properly and looked up to meet Dean's eyes again.

"Azazel was a Fallen, Dean. He used to be an angel. I can only assume that when he fed Sam the blood he and Ruby only chose to cultivate the Demonic ones because it suited their purposes more. They ignored the angelic to convince Sam he was a monster. The demon blood only strengthened the demonic abilities, and with his being coached, it's likely he would never know about many of the others if they were not awakened. Sam has never tasted angel blood, which would probably have awakened the dormant powers. Instead, I awakened them with the help of my grace."

It took Dean a moment to place the name Azazel with how he was so used to hearing Yellow Eyes or calling him Big Bad. So Azazel was a Fallen? An angel? Somehow that made it even worse than if he was just a demon and he wasn't sure why. Shaking his head slightly he dropped his attention down to his hands and slowly curled them into fists, feeling so very useless.

Dean was more comfortable either being silent and brooding, or yelling but neither of his normal responses seemed appropriate for this situation. He looked over at Castiel again and frowned. "You keep saying that they're getting stronger without using them. They didn't do this before. Can you tell what triggered them?" He asked, still trying to keep himself cool and collected.

So his brother would now have to deal with a whole new set of problems. Would training these powers make his blood lust worse? Would it make him a target in the eyes of Heaven and Hell again? With the Apocalypse finally averted they had been somewhat safe, and then the Leviathans. They both needed a break but they never seemed to catch one.

Castiel watched Dean cautiously, thinking to himself that it was going better than expected. Dean was still here, asking questions, willing to listen as the angel explained things to the best of his ability. It could certainly be going worse. If Dean had refused to listen to reason and ended up throwing ultimatums around, Castiel wasn't sure how he might handle it. But the signs were there that Dean was stressed, and Cas's eyes were also drawn to the hands that balled into fists. Swallowing and knowing he might be doing the wrong thing, he slowly lifted a hand and set it on Dean's shoulder comfortingly.

"I don't know if it's been triggered, or simply a building excess because he doesn't have an outlet. My guess would be the latter," he offered. "Sam has been trying to stop them and that may have created a type of dam that is now overflowing." He gave a slight shrug and squeezed Dean's shoulder before slowly dropping his hand. "But we cannot pretend they do not exist.”

"You and your brother are both amazing human beings Dean. Sam is so worried about what you may think of him that he's tearing himself apart holding back what comes naturally to him. He is attempting to build trust with you again by telling you these things instead of keeping them hidden. I am also here to help in any way I can. Please do not think that either of us wants anything but to trust and protect you, and have you do the same. You need one another."

He left himself out of the part about need, certain that neither Winchester _needed_ him in the same ways he needed them, or one another. The angel was also certain he'd never talked so much in his life. Usually his conversations were clipped and short, divulging the information necessary with the smallest amount of words. But he consciously changed that when explaining to Dean, exuding more empathy than normal for the sake of his human companions.

Dean nodded a few times as he listened to Castiel's explanations. It was good to know that there wasn't some intervention by supernatural power that kicked off Sam's powers. But then Castiel had to go and stress how important he was to Sam and Sam to him. There had been so much that had happened, so many rifts between them that he didn't know if that was true anymore. Maybe the angel was right, but he couldn't imagine it going back to the way it had been before. Dean had always thought he would die if Sam wasn't alive (and that was probably still true), but Purgatory had forced him to see he could survive a whole hell of a lot more than he thought he could.

Although in Purgatory, getting back out and back to Sam had been his driving goal, followed only by getting out with Castiel.

"So, how is training Sam gonna work?" Dean asked as he looked out towards the sky and watching lazy clouds being herded by the wind.

Castiel let out a silent breath of relief when Dean did not lose his temper on him as he had done once or twice in Purgatory. They had become close in that terrible place, relied upon one another for protection and support. It had been uneasy with Benny around at first. However, they all soon settled into something more or less companionable in their efforts to get out.

Castiel had shattered that trust when he'd told Dean the truth, to spare him the sense of failure and loss the elder Winchester had experienced. He could only hope at some point that he could rebuild it in parts, if not in whole.

"It will start slow," he replied. "Since many of the powers consist of manipulating energies, he will have to learn to meditate first and foremost. He will have to be able to feel the way the energies move and learn how to combine and separate his with someone else's for things such as dreamwalking. He is already able to use telekinesis quite well. As for actually using the rest, I will be taking him to a secluded area to practice, where no one can be harmed if an accident _does_ take place."

Dean wasn't sure if he wanted to be around to watch Sam practice or not. Part of him wanted to watch so that he would finally know what Sam was up to. After all the fiascos with Ruby, he had never quite been able to trust Sam when he was out of his sight. But no. He didn't want to have to see Sam working harder to become more of a freak, even if these weren't demonic powers for once.

He wanted some sort of guarantee that Cas wouldn't let Sam do anything damning again, but he didn't completely trust him enough for that. It was almost depressing when he thought how he no longer trusted the people who were the closest to him. "Well, just don't let him do anything stupid." He wasn't sure if he trusted Castiel's judgments anymore. As he stood up, he glared slightly and added, "Don't abandon him in the middle of it." Then he grabbed his bags and went into the room.

Castiel closed his eyes as Dean absorb the new information, taking a small breath and lacing his own fingers together above his knees at the relative silence. Perhaps it would take Dean a little more time to come to terms with his brother's abilities. Or perhaps he never would. The angel didn't know, and couldn't really tell. He only hoped, for all of their sakes, that they settled into something more brotherly. Something more like it used to be. After all, Dean had looked out for Sam his entire life and the younger had harbored the powers for that long, even if he hadn't used them.

"I don't plan to, Dean," he said in response to both of the man’s statements, looking straight ahead. He hadn't missed the glare, and the jab made it feel like his own heart had caved in. Closing his eyes tightly, he allowed Dean to leave and simply sat on the stoop, left alone to his thoughts. It was so hard to fight off the self-loathing and hatred. He wanted desperately to strip himself of his grace and live life as a human. He was so utterly tired.

Lowering his head, he waited.

An angel with no direction.


	7. Silent Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silent conversations lead to Sam and Castiel finally figuring out what each other is thinking.

Dean closed the door behind him and looked to see Sam laying on the bed, still in a restless sleep. "Guess this power stuff really takes it out of ya, eh?" he said as he placed the bags down on the small table, pulling out the supplies for his Bloody Mary. He went about his business for a while, moving through the apartment in perfect silence.

Finally he heard a noise behind him and saw Sam sitting up, blearily rubbing at his eyes. "Feeling better, Aurora?"

Sam blinked a few times before tilting his head slightly and giving Dean one of his best bitch faces. "Really? You couldn't just go with Sleeping Beauty?"

Shrugging Dean took a sip from his concoction, in the hopes it would finish up the last of his hangover. Over the rim of his glass he muttered, "You don't have seven dwarves and, face it, you just fit a poor girl secluded in the woods for years." The look on Sam's face was priceless.

Yeah, he could do this. He could just ignore all this power crap and the trust issues and just joke around with Sam. Like Frank said, he just needed to make himself smile because he was still alive and it was his job; be a professional.

"Jerk," Sam retorted, head moving in a little motion that had always made Dean chuckle.

"Bitch," Dean replied, and he felt the smallest amount of warmth creep into his smile.

Castiel sat solemnly just outside the door listening to the banter that sounded almost normal for the men and sighed, bowing his head, wishing again that he could have just been created human instead of the creature he was. At least then he could allow himself to fail once in awhile, to make mistakes and have doubts. To give just the humans free will seemed cruel to the angel, but perhaps that was because he’d had to fall in order to do what he believed was best. The road to Hell really was paved with the best intentions.

...And lustful thoughts about humans. His fingers flexed as he remembered the feeling of muscle under them, the growl in Sam's voice that was something very different from threatening; the way his grace had sizzled and sparked as his vessel reacted to the touches with a need that was hungry and instinctual.

He shivered and stood, tipping his head back before disappearing to go find someplace peaceful to clear his mind. He kept one ear tuned to the boys, ready to return if one of them called for him, but aside from that he simply meant to find somewhere to sit that would remind him there was still pleasure to have for simply existing.

Sam spent a few hours just resting and reading countless articles in search of a new hunt, anything to help focus his mind on. Dean had been in and out, and he hadn't quite plucked up enough courage to ask what he was up to; but he didn't doubt that it had something to do with the Impala, the open road and music. Eventually he turned on the bed and looked over at Dean.

"So, any word on the tablet yet?" He rather wanted to get back to the whole 'closing-the-gates-of-hell-and-leaving' bit.

Dean had his back to Sam as he answered, so his brother couldn't see the slight flinch he made. Of course Sam would want to know about that, no amount of pretending could change the fact that Sam didn't really want to be here. And that's when a thought crossed his mind, a terrible, manipulative thought. If Sam was training his powers, he wouldn't leave. He would need to stay with him and Castiel to make sure that he controlled them properly and they didn't blow up in his face or whatever. So, if he encouraged all of this, maybe he wouldn't lose Sam; maybe Sam would get so glad from working with his powers that he'd regain, or just plain gain, a love for hunting, for using those powers.

"No, haven't turned up anything," he responded, trying to sound a little disappointed, frustrated even.

Sam sighed. "Well, I haven't been able to turn up anything either, but I'm sure we'll get back on its trail eventually."

Yeah, eventually... Dean thought with a smile.

 

* * *

 

The back road was definitely bumpy, and riding in the impala was, as usual, almost painfully slow but the angel didn't mind because of the company he kept. The music was too loud, and the smell of their fast food filled up the inside of the vehicle, lingering with the scents of salts and oils and gunpowder drifting from the trunk and the leather of the seats. Riding in the back seat and peering out the tiny window for just a moment before he settled his eyes once more on the back of Sam's head, the angel sighed.

Sam who had been doing so well with his training, catching on quickly and efficiently despite the lack of demon blood, was the favorite part of Castiel's day. He enjoyed every hour spent with the hunter whether they were training or simply talking. Meditation had come first and had been quiet and peaceful as he taught Sam to just breathe and feel his own energy and then the energy around them. Each creature, each element, everything had its own energy and special people, telepathic creatures, could manipulate them. It would be easier if Sam could see them; and so he had, teaching Sam about the nature of such things, demonstrating that his own pyrokinesis was really just a matter of vibrating matter so quickly telepathically that the items burst into flame. The vibration wasn't visible to the naked eye, it was the molecules themselves that were being moved. He'd supposed that Sam would have the ability to do the opposite with his cryokinesis, slowing down matter until it cooled.

They had barely started dreamwalking, which consisted of merging your energies with the person you were targeting, tuning in psychically to their wavelength. Electronic Manipulation was very much like telepathy, though you only needed to merge with a different type of wavelength and direct it to its desired location.

Sam and he had even managed to trap a demon during a job to practice the killing touch on and the angel had been astonished again that Sam could perform it.

Yes, Sam was doing well with his training, but that wasn't always what Castiel thought about and the angel had been growing more and more saddened as the weeks passed. He'd never once shown it, but his affection for the man was growing in a way he wasn't certain he knew how to control. Sam, the man not worried about his status as a Fallen. Sam, the one who was still willing to touch him. Sam, the patient one who explained references and jokes to him in kindness instead of making fun of him like his sarcastic older brother. Thoughts of Sam consumed the angel whether he was with the Winchesters, or alone, and he often thought about the night they had almost... But Sam hadn't shown the same interest since then and Castiel had to content himself with stealing glances when he knew the younger wasn't looking.

Just as he was doing now.

They'd been in the car for hours and there was nothing to look at that Castiel had not seen before, so he simply settled on the most enjoyable thing in the car to him.

Sam was going crazy, he really was, in the slowest, most painful way possible. Never before had he been around someone who he was so interested in but was completely unsure whether they were of a like mind about him without getting almost any time away from them. Castiel had become a constant in his life. An attractive, awkward, practically magnetic constant.

It also didn't help that he was spending hours with Castiel practicing meditation, simply closing his eyes, focusing on his breathing and listening to the angel's gravelly voice giving him instructions on what to do. You would think that this would make the meditation harder, but thankfully his mind took rather naturally to the exercise. The problem was that Castiel's low voice giving him instructions came up in a rather different scenario in his dreams. There had been more than a few nights where he'd needed to go out for a jog or take a cold shower or just spend an entire night thinking about dead kittens or really anything even remotely unsexy.

His powers were improving day by day and he could feel greater and greater control over all these talents that he'd spent his entire life trying to deny. Watching Castiel use his Grace and magic, seeing the rare smile on his face when Sam was finally able to work out how to control electricity or see the spirits that were all around him, was encouraging.

There was another great frustration in his life right now--he couldn't see Castiel's wings. Ever since he'd heard that, he'd been wondering what they'd look like. Would they be a pair of snow white wings, or would Castiel's fall have changed them to black? Were they like birds, varied and mottled, or maybe even a vibrant shade of red or green. Not knowing this just added to his frustration over having Castiel so close which added to his frustration over his wings, and so on and so forth.

He felt like he was stuck in a feedback loop and if something didn't change he was going to go insane, or have to take to sneaking out to find some more permanent way to relieve some of his frustration. At least all the training left him too tired to do anything stupid that he would regret.

And Dean? Well, surprisingly, they were doing better. Dean seemed to be warming to the idea of Sam using his powers, encouraging him and Castiel to go off and train even on the days when Sam would have preferred to just lounge. And his smiles finally felt like there was a shred of actual happiness behind them.

As he sat in the passenger seat, he had his eyes firmly glued to the countryside as much as possible. But every so often he would sneak a glance in the rear view mirror and see those blue eyes glancing at him. Was he... looking on purpose, or was that just his luck that their eyes kept catching?

"I don't know what's going on with you two right now, but could you cut the crap and stop acting like high schoolers trying to ask your date to the prom?" Dean finally said, a slight humor in his voice.

The angel's eyes flicked up to Dean and he frowned momentarily as he tried to work out what had been said. Replaying it several times over in his head didn't make things any clearer, and after a moment Castiel leaned forward, face between the two front seats as he turned the volume of the music down with a wave of his hand.

Glancing back and forth between them he finally settled on Dean, his expression perplexed. "What is the prom?" he asked innocently before looking at Sam and then back at Dean. "I'm not sure what you mean by acting. Am I acting differently than normal? "

Castiel  hadn't even been aware that his frequent stares at Sam had been visible to Dean; hadn't considered that they were abnormal. He'd pinned both men with stares plenty of times and wasn't aware that the ones he'd laid on the younger Winchester were dangerously close to longing.

Sam shifted in his seat uncomfortably and looked over at Dean, smirking. "Really, Dean? The prom? You couldn't think of a better analogy?" Shaking his head he turned his attention to the angel staring at him in the mirror. "The prom is a dance during high school."

"Yeah, that Sam took very seriously. He had this crush on this girl... oh, what was her name?" Dean asked, snapping his fingers as he tried to remember her.

Groaning, Sam placed his face in his hands. "Really, Dean, we're bringing this up? You're the one who chased every skirt around." In reality there had been a young man who he would have wanted to ask much more, but he knew exactly what John would have thought of that. Sam had always considered himself a player for both teams which made this attraction to Castiel all the more difficult because it wasn't his normal inclination to fight it.

Dean made an exclamation and smiled, "Barbara."

"No, that was your girlfriend in that town. And, if I remember correctly, she only went to the prom with me because she wanted a chance to hook up with you," Sam replied with a small smile.

"Shandra? Maddy? Gloria?" Dean went on listing off names as Sam merely chuckled and shook his head.

Castiel blinked, still obviously not understanding, and heaved a small sigh believing it was just another human experience he would never have the chance to, well, experience. The conversation and the smiles between the brothers were flowing freely, though; an encouraging sign which he kept in mind as he leaned back in the seat and shifted his trench coat around him.

Eyes drifted up to the mirror, catching Sam's hazel ones, and the angel swallowed heavily, pinned by that gaze. It was the first time in days that they had met and the angel found himself startled by how beautiful they were even in the dark. He'd never really found eyes attractive before, but the gaze sent a shock of electricity down his spine and he found himself trying to hold them as long as possible.

"Is a prom fun?" He finally asked them both quietly, interest coloring his words as he finally broke his gaze off and looked at his hands. "What is a 'crush'? Context tells me it is not used the way one might think. I highly doubt humans ask crushed humans to a dance." He looked thoughtful for a moment, considering, and then shook his head. "They would not be very good at it."

Sam couldn't help the laugh that ripped from him at Castiel's innocent comment, and he kept on laughing, so much so that Dean had to be the one to explain it although it was obvious that he was trying to hold back his own laughter. "No, no crushed humans. Having a crush on someone means you like them."

"People generally act awkward around their crush," Sam finally piped up once his laughter was done, "because they want to put forth their best impression but try too hard. And prom is... well it can be fun if your date isn't asking questions about your brother the entire night long," he added with a sidelong glare at Dean.

Dean held up his hands in defeat. "Can't help it that everyone digs me more than you, Sasquatch."

"Oh," Castiel muttered, blinking rapidly and looking up at Sam, frowning slightly as he was laughed at. "That makes more sense. Though, I still do not understand why it would be called a crush. That seems a horrible thing to think about with someone you care about..." he trailed off again and looked at Sam, giving another sigh. He did realize things had been awkward around Sam since that night, but he didn't know what to do about it. Shifting in his seat uncomfortably he looked back out the window.

"Why did you go with her if she only wanted to be with Dean?" he asked. "Why didn't you ask the girl you... had a crush on?" Cas finished before looking back up in the rearview.

"I don't know why it's called a crush," Sam admitted. "But I had a crush on her even though I knew she wasn't interested in me." That sounded a little too close to how he felt now, although saying that he had a crush on Castiel made it feel so juvenile and pathetic. He was highly interested in him? Lusting after him?

Dean shook his head and smiled at Cas. "My brother is terrible with being honest with his feelings, especially when he thinks the girl isn't interested in him. You should have seen him, one time he liked one of the girls I was going out with, but does he tell me this? No! He just does his best to be courteous and polite, and let me date her."

"She never would have been interested in me," Sam countered, wondering why in the world Dean had decided that talking about his past love life was suddenly a great way to pass the time. Hell, if anyone had any interesting stories about love and romance, it was Dean.

"Why?"

"Because I wasn't her type, for one. And she never showed any hint of interest in me." Sam's eyes subconsciously strayed to Castiel again.

Castiel listened quietly to the explanations, closing his eyes for a moment before looking back up between them, not really understanding much except that he was looking at Sam like he liked him -- which was certainly and completely true. He wondered what it would be like to attend high school and ask someone to a dance.

He looked at Dean but couldn't help but glance quickly at Sam once in the mirror and feel his heart flutter again. "Sometimes you don't know unless you ask," he said in a low voice before looking down and clearing his throat. He looked back out the window, watching the moonlight reflect off everything but still disappear in the distance.

Closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the window he couldn't help the vaguely melancholy look that settled over his features.

Dean saw how down Castiel was looking and he smiled at him in the mirror. "Hey man, don't get down. High school and dances are pretty much a special ring in Hell, all reserved for teenagers. But, seriously, what's going on with you guys? Did Sam set your coat on fire or something?"

Sam looked out the window wanting to be anywhere else at that moment, although what Castiel had said was playing through his mind on repeat.

Perhaps now might be a good time to try his telepathy? He blocked out whatever Dean and Castiel were saying and started to meditate as best he could.

Castiel glanced up and then down with a small smile, sighing again and turning his eyes to look back outside. "No. He froze it once actually," he murmured, though that smile was amused. He looked back up at Dean, opening his mouth to say something about how he did have a crush on Sam but that would be incredibly awkward with all of them sitting in the car. It would be unfair because he was the only one who could leave if things got too uncomfortable.

"Nothing is going on..." He trailed off, searching for more words. "I suppose I am... proud of him… you could say. Impressed with the job he is doing. He has come a long way in such a short amount of time." He glanced at Sam who seemed to be looking out the window, non-responsive, and he lowered his eyes back down before turning his gaze out his own window once again.

He was never going to get the hang of navigating human emotions and figures of speech.

"Well, there we go. I knew Sam had it in him," Dean said with a proud smile. It looked like his plan was working so far--Sam hadn't mentioned the tablet or leaving in weeks and his attitude was getting better. Hell, even he was starting to feel ready to work his way through forgiving his brother some of his past transgressions.

Sam reached out and found the threads of Castiel's Grace, knitting a few tendrils together with his own much weaker energies. Cas... did I do this right? He hadn't really tried telepathy yet, so he had no idea if he was doing this right besides the small instinct that was leading him.

Castiel nodded in agreement, though he wasn't truly listening to Dean. If he had been, the human would have gotten a raised brow considering how reticent and surly Dean had been in the beginning. He was determined to find something interesting in the fields outside, something that could take his mind off his crush and dances and other such oddities. He certainly found something interesting in the next few moments, his eyes narrowing slightly as something tugged at his grace and then twined with it, thin but sure.

Sam's voice was in his mind and the angel blinked in surprise before glancing at the back of Sam's head again.

Perfectly, he praised the hunter, doubly surprised because he hadn't yet taught this to Sam. Messing with another's energy required a delicate touch, and it seemed that Sam had already managed to perfect it. You've done well, he continued, giving the bond a testing prod with his grace to measure its strength. He was satisfied with the result.

So... sometimes you don't know unless you ask? Sam asked with a coy smirk in his mental voice. I don't think this is quite what Dean intended to start with his little conversation but... we have been dancing around each other. What happened that night, Cas? How come you never came back?

Sam would have liked to just ask the angel out right if he was interested in him and would he be willing to try that all again somewhere Dean wouldn't walk in on them, but he still felt like he might be reading all the signs wrong. Of course, he usually read things wrong but this was like trying to read a novel in a foreign language upside down and backwards.

"And then you should have seen his face when--" Dean continued talking, not realizing that no one in the car was listening to him any longer.

Castiel went back to looking out the window, though the melancholy expression had all but evaporated, replaced with a mixture of something much closer to happiness. He really was so proud of Sam. A thread of bewilderment came from the angel at the question, clear enough without an actual question.

I didn't know if Dean was going to stay... he started, And you didn't call me again. I believed he was either there, or you had changed your mind. The next morning, I realized that he'd gone back to the bar that night so I concluded I must have alarmed you...

He was clearly as confused as Sam was, and glanced at Dean before hazarding another look at the younger Winchester's back.

Sam remained resolutely staring out the window at the passing grasslands. You thought... dammit. I thought I'd scared you off or that maybe Jimmy was still in there and he hadn't agreed to have his body used that way. Of course, it only made sense in his life to have the largest misunderstanding possible because of his brother. Cockblocked by association.

So then... you are interested? And we've been dancing around each other for no good reason? There was a mix of hope and disbelief in his words. Could it really have just been a case of horrible timing and misunderstanding? Well, that was ridiculously clichéd.

Dean looked over at the others in the car. "Is anyone listening to me? Am I just... yup. Totally talking to myself."

Jimmy? No. He's been resting for quite some time. He hasn't communicated with me since several weeks after I retook this vessel instead of his daughter. Castiel took his cue from the younger hunter and took a deep breath as he turned his eyes back toward the window, lifting a hand up to place his palm on it gently.  He felt slightly elated that the rejection from Sam wasn't rejection at all. In fact, he felt almost giddy at the prospect. He'd apparently been unsuccessful in telling himself that it was better this way.

You didn't scare me at all, Sam, he explained, And I didn't know what we were doing was called dancing. I thought dancing was something different, but... If I am honest... I've wanted to kiss you again every day since that night. It's hard for me to explain, but I cannot seem to stop thinking about what happened. A hint of embarrassment flickered through him, the psychic equivalent of a blush, something he would never show physically but could not hide mentally. His grace, which had been cool when Sam first bonded, was warming now, exuding a sense of hope.

"Sorry, Dean. Listening for cases," Castiel murmured against the window. Though he didn't want to be rude, most of his attention was focused elsewhere.

Well, I'm glad to hear that wasn't the case. And no... Cas, that wasn't dancing. I'll show you dancing sometime. Sam couldn't help but grin out the window. So, now that we both know that we weren't scared off or uninterested, I motion that we should try that again at our earliest possible convenience.

"Mhmmm," Dean hummed, "Finding anything good?"

Sam tried his best not to grin like an idiot at what Dean had just said. Yeah, just some of the best news possible.

Castiel shifted to the other window just behind Sam, positioning himself so that he was able to see the edge of the hunter's face. The smile found plastered there did wonders for him and he responded jovially. I know how to dance. I've done it before. I find it enjoyable, he returned, already eager for the touch of Sam's hands and the taste of his lips. It was almost all he could do not to grab the hunter's shoulder and will them both away right then.

Instead, he focused on answering Dean for the moment, his voice impassive as if he was mildly interested. "Cases, no. But someone did just ask his date to the prom on one of the stations." Even for a angel, Castiel had to commend himself on his own cleverness. It was not often he understood satire, and far less often that he was the witty one. Most of the time when people laughed, it was at his inability to comprehend.

He shot another glance at the larger hunter and then spoke to him again. When?

Sam had to bite his tongue to keep from bursting out laughing at Castiel's comment. When had his little angel developed a sense of humor?

There he went referring to Castiel as his again. It was probably a little too early to be thinking that way, even with how obvious it was that they were both absolutely starved for each other.

Dean looked back at Castiel for a minute and cocked an eyebrow. "What kind of stations are you listening to?"

Well, we already have these convenient training sessions that we do away from Dean... Sam replied, letting all of his eagerness bleed through their connection. Sooner, if you could think of a better excuse to get away. Then Sam realized that he should probably respond to what Castiel had actually said aloud, "Cas... was that... humor? Dean's right, what are you listening in on?"

Castiel felt the amusement from the connection with Sam and was even more pleased with himself, the grace within him warming a few more degrees. He lifted his chin a little and glanced back at the elder hunter with shrug. "It wasn't humor. It was the truth. I am listening to every station and scanner within range," he answered as if responding to them both. His amusement was still apparent, though, and for Sam it was humor.

Thinking hard for a few moments the angel took a breath and nudged back through to Sam tentatively.

Would it upset Dean if we went to retrieve something? Food? Coffee maybe? He was already itching to put his mouth on Sam's again, to explore what lay under those clothes. He was as eager as Sam, willing and ready for anything, desire overriding sense quickly and effectively.

Dean gave an appreciative hum. "Remind me to never forget that the angels are listening." That was a bit of a scary thought actually, if all the angels were listening to everything they said or did in their life. At least with the Enochian sigils the angels didn't know where they were.

Once we get back we can definitely run that by him. We wouldn't have time to really enjoy ourselves but, I'm sure we'd find something we could do in a few minutes waiting for food. Sam pooled all the want he felt and poured it across the connection, which might have been a cruel thing to do while they both still had to wait in the car for another few hours, but hey, he'd always loved being demonstrative with his affection.

That should at least help tide you over, hmm?

Castiel glanced over at Dean and corrected him. "Not to you. They cannot see you--cannot pinpoint you--and they cannot hear you unless you are speaking over wavelengths, such as a cellphone or a scanner." He attempted to assuage Dean's worry while simultaneously almost giving a whine in Sam's mental direction.

Sam was definitely getting the hang of his powers very quickly, and the angel was actually squirming subtly in his seat, reduced to a quivering mess already. He couldn't bear to wait for the hours it would take for them to get where they were going, not with the flood of both his and Sam's desire surging through him. Reaching through the crack between the Impala door and passenger seat, he grabbed Sam's elbow, digging his fingers into the cloth tightly.

"Dean, I want coffee. Would you like me to bring you back anything?” He managed, barely able to keep his voice even.

Dean nodded at Castiel's explanation, glad to hear that the angels weren't able to listen to just anything; however, it was still a rather horrific concept to hear that all their cellphone conversations, all their technological data, might be traced by Heaven. If nothing else, it made him a little annoyed to think that Heaven might be listening in on some of his 'personal' calls.

"Coffee?" He couldn't remember the angel having ever drank coffee, or even having tried it, so why the sudden yearning for it? Normally they had to force him to try anything, seeing as his vessel didn't need sustenance. Maybe all this training was draining him enough that coffee actually affected him? "Uh, sure. I could use a black coffee, two sugars."

Sam in the meantime felt Castiel's fingers gripping at his elbow and he decided that having mental conversations was perhaps one of the most useful tools he'd ever come across, especially when he could share his ample imagination with Cas.

Castiel looked at Dean quietly, inwardly begging him not to ask too many questions, trying hard to calm himself down enough to think coherently. He wasn't sure at all what he would say if Dean did have questions. Thankfully, the hunter didn't seem too interested in why he wanted to try a drink he would never need but had seen them enjoy many times. "All right. We'll be back soon," he promised before spreading his wings and flapping.

He and Sam were standing in a forest of giant trees then, so huge and round and tall that there was no doubt they were in the redwood forest, Castiel's fingers still tight on Sam's jacket sleeve, still fighting to control his breathing as the moonlight filtered down and peppered them with specks of white.

"You're better at that than I thought," he finally managed under his breath, glancing up at Sam. "If you have somewhere else in mind, now would be the best time to tell me."

Dean quirked an eyebrow again, "We?" But as he turned to look over at Sam and Castiel, he found that they had already vanished. "Right, sure, I'll just keep driving the car then." He slapped the wheel lightly and shook his head. Angels. He doubted he would ever understand them.

As Sam and Castiel appeared in the forest, Sam drew in a deep breath to enjoy the fresh air. He looked at the shorter man with a smirk. "No, this is just fine. Besides, this might help remind us that we shouldn't take too long getting you coffee." Pushing ever so slightly, he backed Castiel up against one of the giant redwoods. "How exactly am I better than you thought?" Sam asked as he leaned in and just breathed Castiel in, openly staring at the angel for the first time in weeks.

It had been sheer torture trying not to look at Castiel, trying not to step over the boundaries that he thought were there. But now that he knew there were none he found himself torn over what he should be staring at first. "Better at sending my emotions over to you? Because maybe it's just me, but I'd rather we don't have any more misunderstandings about how we feel."

Castiel backed up willing against the tree, never loosening his grip on Sam's jacket, breathing in the cool night air and listening to the sounds of nature around them. "Yes. Coffee. Please don't let me forget it. That would be hard to explain." He already knew that his mental state might be severely compromised by the end of this. Caged by Sam's body, he didn't feel the least bit intimidated; in fact, it was quite the opposite. He felt almost protected. The fabric of his clothing scraped against the bark and the angel found himself pinned by a hungry gaze that he returned with equal intensity.

Parting his lips slightly, he nodded. "Yes. You made a connection on your own, I didn't even have to teach you how," he breathed before reaching up with both hands to begin unbuttoning the thick jacket Sam wore with fingers that almost trembled. "Not only that, you were able to send pure feeling. I don't doubt that you'll be able to send images soon." He nudged Sam's mind with his own, sharing a glimpse of his own memory of the thumbs digging into his hipbones, a small pain that had felt so good.

"I agree with you," he murmured softly as he got the last button undone and pushed the field jacket open, flattening his palms over the plaid shirt underneath and fanning them over the strong muscles.

Sam's eyes dropped down to watch with fascination as Castiel undid his buttons, and when he felt those rough hands lay against him he decided that there was still far too much space between them. Then Castiel had to send him imagery from his perspective of their first kiss and Sam just about lost it. There was something insane about all of this--sharing emotions and memories with their minds, being able to perfectly understand each other and what they both wanted, needed. Humans hadn't been meant to live with this level of connection, and it was absolutely driving Sam insane.

"Mhmmm." Leaning forward he hesitated for a moment, catching Castiel's eyes to make sure that this was permissible, and then he descended on Castiel's lips. His hands needed to feel Castiel, needed to be everywhere at once. If they didn't close off this link Sam might not survive because he was feeling what he did to Castiel at the same time he was feeling what Castiel was doing to him and he was drowning in sensation. But the last thing he could spare any time for was figuring out how to close it down.

One of his hands finally settled on holding the knot of the angel's tie while the other returned to the hollow of his hip seeing as Castiel had expressed such enjoyment of that earlier.

He wouldn't have prescribed to the clichés and said that he was kissing the man like a man in need of water or air, or that he was hungrily devouring his lips. No, it wasn't something he felt adequate to describe, especially as Grace began crackling inside Castiel's mouth and Sam tasted eternity.

Castiel shifted, lifting his hands up and sliding them under the jacket at Sam's shoulders, reveling in the feel of Sam under his fingers, in his head, completely enveloping him. It was overwhelming. Intoxicating. He could feel how the memory affected the hunter and in turn the hunter's emotions rippled back to him. He had never forged a telepathic link of this sort before. There were quick ones with other angels on the battlefield, but nothing... nothing so heady, so intimate. Staring at Sam's lips he shivered at the noise Sam made and looked up into the hazel eyes that were so like his brother's.

Sam was everywhere then, the taste of him on Castiel's lips just as he remembered it, the hands just as strong, sliding over the vessel's flesh and muscle. His own fingers clenched roughly at Sam's shirt as his tie was grabbed and he arched his back into the thumb on his hip as he sought out the touch that had been burned into his thoughts the last several weeks. It was too much, too overwhelming as his nails scraped Sam's shoulders as they scrambled for purchase and he had to pull his grace from Sam's energies gently lest the both get confused on whose hands were whose.

"Forgive me," he gasped hoarsely. "It was too much." He hoped Sam could understand.

Gasping into the lips that stole his breath, Castiel used his grip on Sam's shoulders to pull him closer, hard against himself, pushing the jacket off down his shoulders and fumbling with the buttons of the plaid shirt for a moment before closing his eyes and waving two fingers over Sam's shirt. It parted instantly under his command and already his grace was beginning to crackle with the same wild energy it had the first time, tendrils of it seemingly going haywire along his vessel's nerves.

Sam shook his head slightly, still trying to keep contact with Castiel's lips at the same time. "No, I understand." As heady as the link was, it was simply an overwhelming amount of information and emotion for him to have to process all at once. He definitely wanted to pick it up again later though, send lazy memories over and learn exactly what made Castiel deliriously pleased and which actions they both needed.

Finally Sam felt the urge to abandon the angel's dry lips in favor of exploring along his chin and then down his neck, placing a trail of kisses to mark his passing until the hollow junction between shoulder and neck called out to be marked. Sucking on Castiel's skin, he slowly counted off the seconds in his mind, only missing count when the angel nipped at his earlobe. Pulling away ever so slightly, he laid a few feather-light kisses over the sensitive skin and started pulling off Castiel's tie.

A very small voice in the back of his head tried to remind him that they really shouldn't be spending too long wrapped up in each other as they still had an errand to run; but he was only too happy to tell that voice to cram it as he undid the top buttons of Castiel's shirt and pushed everything back so he could explore Castiel's clavicles.

Good. Good, it was good that Sam understood and didn't begrudge him shutting it down. He missed it already, but the angel had never been very sexual in the first place, and Sam, well, he'd certainly had no qualms about sex in his life. He'd have to open the link back up later, and part of him was thrilled at the secret way to communicate with Sam. He would be able to sooth him during tense moments with Dean; he would be able to encourage him physically and mentally during training. If Sam was already this good at telepathy, dreamwalking wouldn't be as hard as he originally thought.

The thoughts were fleeting as Sam drew away from him and the angel tipped his head back against the tree, panting heavily for a moment as those perfectly shaped lips meandered down his chin and neck, shivering as goosebumps rolled down his body in a wave. The angel felt Sam pause for several seconds and turned his head to nip Sam's ear, just a little confused by the strange sensation, even if it felt wonderful. He tipped his head back again with a soft groan as Sam started removing his tie, whispering, "What was that? What were you doing?"

His shoulder blades dug into the tree trunk and the angel arched his back again, all but rising onto his tiptoes as his own hands were pushed away from Sam's chest. His vessel's body was far from being as muscular as Sam's but he was in relatively good shape, his chest bare and smooth rising and falling with his heavy breaths. His fingers flexed as he fixed his eyes on Sam, pupils rather dilated.

Sam let loose a low growl at Castiel's question and he did his best to look up and see the man's expression as he smirked against his skin and whispered an explanation. "That, Cas, was a hickey. It's a marking to show others that you're mine." Every instinct inside him was screaming to bite down on Castiel, to lick away any pain and kiss every inch of his body; but this question reminded him that while Castiel might have dim memories of sex from Jimmy, he had none of the experiences for himself and he really should go a little slower for the angel's sake.

His hand still gripped against Castiel's hip dug in with a little more force, pinning Castiel in place as effectively as he could while his other hand pulled more material away to expose skin. Licking along the bony ridge of Castiel's clavicle, he slowly made his way back over the slightly dampened skin, alternatively blowing lightly and nipping at the skin.

"Think of it as a promise," Sam whispered huskily as he worked his way back up Castiel's neck and eventually finding his lips again, "that I'm on your mind and that you're on mine." He wouldn't ask for things he didn't think he could guarantee himself, but this, this seemed like a reasonable enough request to make.

The angel shuddered at Sam's feral growl, meeting those eyes that could at times be impossibly kind, and at other times... Be... This... Breathtaking. Wild. His brows furrowed slightly as he forcefully stopped the regeneration on that part of his neck, knowing if he didn't it would heal almost instantly. Inwardly, he quivered as Sam's breath fluttered over his skin, mind racing. A mark? Sam had left a mark on him. Not only a mark, but one intended to claim Castiel as his? The Angel felt his knees weaken, sucking in a breath at the thought of belonging to someone--anyone--again. As much as he'd fought for free will, he was still an angel and had always wanted to belong. He had always wanted to know that what he was doing was the right thing. And Sam Winchester was laying a claim, proving to Castiel that he wanted him completely. Perhaps the angel was reading too much into the entire situation, dizzy with lust, but he couldn't help but feel that the mark was much more than just that. A little mark. He'd Fallen, lost his way, and Sam had picked him up and was now carrying him home.

The angel sucked in another hissing breath, releasing it with a gasp and dropping his face to kiss at the crook of the hunter's neck and down his shoulders, pushing Sam's already unbuttoned shirt down his arms and letting his fingers press and test the muscle that rippled beneath skin like molten silver. He had no idea what Sam was doing to him but he mimicked it, suckling and breathing along the clavicle on Sam's opposite shoulder, stretching his neck back up and wriggling in a manner completely undignified for an angel.

Looking into those hazel eyes again, Castiel felt almost like he was home. This was where he was supposed to be. This was what he wanted, and it was good to be wanted again; so good to know that he wasn't forgotten, wasn't written off, wasn't a complete disgrace. This extraordinary human being had laid claim to him, and, as broken as he was, Castiel relished it.

He wanted to prove it, wanted to show Sam just how much it meant to him but his words had dried up. He used his grace instead, reaching out with a few tendrils to connect with Sam's physical rather than mental energies and, for all intents and purposes, poured a very tiny amount of pure angelic grace into the human, marking him in turn in the only way he knew how. Sam would carry a piece of Castiel with him now, forever.

It was wrong, forbidden, for Castiel to give away Heaven's gifts. But as a Fallen, Heaven no longer ruled him.

His eyes lifted to Sam slowly, watching him carefully.

Sam's vision, which had gone hazy around the edges with how focused he was on Castiel, suddenly burst into shining light as pure Grace was poured into him. He blinked against the light, pulling back just a little so that he could get his bearings. But then the Grace ripped through the last vestige of the Veil that separated the spiritual realm from his sight, and he saw.

Castiel was effulgent, essence shifting just beneath the surface of his vessel, and Sam drew in a breath as an eye shifted under the surface and looked at him before blinking and sinking back into the mass of Grace and otherworldliness. But where Castiel's true essence was painful to behold--too much for a human mind, too shifting and transitory and beyond his comprehension--there was something he could stare at; and that was the three pairs of wings sprouting from Castiel's back.

They were vast things, gently tapered like a raptor's. It was all too obvious that once they had been spotless, shimmering white, feathers full and proud. But now the effects of Castiel's fall were taking their toll as the trailing edge was gradually being stained an inky black, making the feathers seem wicked, slowly and surely dying all three sets pitch black.

Sam reached out tentatively to see if he could touch the wings, but while he could see them, his hand passed through them and it was all too obvious that they simply weren't in the same plane of reality as he was.

"You... you have six wings?" While Sam's mind was still a bit addled by lust, and now wonderment, he believed he could still identify their significance. "So you're a seraph?" And that question, the sight of those wings, the great shining tumult that was hidden beneath Jimmy's skin finally made Sam realize that he was falling in love with an angel. An angel who was an endlessly powerful, hopelessly lost, and timelessly ancient creature. The very fact that Castiel was here with him suddenly filled him with the greatest sense of worth and purpose he had ever felt.

Castiel's wings, though large, were spread behind him, pinned by his own body and Sam's against the spirit of the old redwood which seemed completely content with having two smaller creatures bandy about its roots. Castiel could have put his wings through that ageless spirit but a sense of respect for old souls had kept him from it. He watched Sam reach, try to touch, and part of him wanted to give that only to Sam. He wanted Sam to touch what no human ever had before. He wanted to let the human feel the softness of those feathers.

Taking a quiet breath as their activities slowed to a pause while Sam stared speechlessly, the angel ducked his head against Sam's neck, kissing gently just once before giving his answer. "Yes. I was promoted to Seraph some time ago," he breathed, wrapping his arms gently around Sam's middle and running his fingertips up his hunter's back under the shirt, for his claim on Sam was just as real as Sam's claim on him. He wanted the closeness, the feeling of Sam's arms around him. "After my second resurrection."

While it might seem almost ridiculous to someone who could see his true form,  Castiel was a weakened thing, lost despite his size, despite his powers, despite a true form that could blind a normal mortal with just a glance. He was nothing so much right now, even with all his past, as a beaten dog locked out of its home and left to starve lonely and broken.

He'd been searching for something to keep him going and he finally hoped he had found it--that Sam would not be so frightened he would walk away. Fingers clutched just a little tighter as the angel sought some sort or reassurance that he was worth no less to the mortal.

Sam groaned as Castiel continued his attentions on Sam's body, his back practically tingling from the touches. "You. Are. A Seraph." He tore his eyes away from the wings and leaned in to meet Castiel's mouth again, punctuating each word with another frenzied kiss or bite or suckle.

He felt Castiel's Grace flow through him and then pool in his center, what he supposed was his Soul although he'd never thought of it as something he could physically feel. The Grace surged as he pulled himself flush against Castiel, arcing and crackling in much the same way that he had felt the Grace inside Castiel's mouth do earlier. It was a more powerful attraction than anything he'd ever felt, like a magnet drawing him to the angel.

However, this absolutely heavenly moment was ruined when his phone started ringing the tune that alerted him that Dean had left him a text message. He sighed against Castiel's lips and trailed a hand down his lightly tensing abdomen.

"Coffee..." He said in an absolutely dejected voice because walking away from Castiel and having to not touch him sounded like a special torture from the lowest ring of Hell right now.

Castiel groaned as Sam did, shivering roughly and closing his eyes tightly at each of Sam's words and the kisses and touches that accompanied them. He realized he would never get enough of this, even if Sam held him until the world ended. He was going to be addicted to this mortal's touch, to this mortal's love. It was so pure somehow, born of a mutual need for one another; a camaraderie that he could trace to their stories, so alike and intertwined. He was going to have a problem on his hands if he ever needed to separate himself from Sam again and he knew it, but he chose not to dwell on it.

His fingers tightened in relief and longing as the tiny portion of grace, though even the tiny amount would feel almost unfathomably strong to a human, settled in its new home. The distinct edge joining it to Sam's soul would fade over time as it settled, and while it would always hold a trace of its origin, Castiel knew that over time Sam's soul would grow around and with it as trees sometimes do with other trees, or even objects. But, for now, it still reacted to Castiel's emotions, pleasantly warm, achingly charged.

Sam's phone rang then and Castiel whimpered, wanting anything but for this moment to end. "Dean... Dean can wait," he breathed, slightly shamed by his willingness to take a few moments for himself. "Please. Sam." His tone held a pleading edge as he pressed a long trail of kisses down the hunter’s neck, pulling him closer, body pressing forward against Sam needfully. He didn't know what he wanted exactly, but he couldn't stand for it to end again, not so soon. He didn't care if it was sin; he was done pretending he belonged in Heaven anymore.

Sam closed his eyes when he heard Castiel's words, amazed by how the angel could make such a simple request sound so terribly important. So Sam let himself be drawn flush against Castiel, silently impressed by the angel's strength that was so often misjudged because of his unassuming vessel. For someone who had always been larger and stronger than his partners, it was an oddly exciting thought that Castiel could overpower him if he wanted to. Something they would certainly have to look into later.

"Well," he replied with a grin, "you do have a point. Dean can wait..." Castiel's kisses were robbing him of his reasoning abilities and he couldn't quite hold it against him. "And you are an angel, so you could probably make us arrive at the right time anyways, no matter how long we stay here, right?" That would most likely be the worst abuse of time travel that had ever been done by an angel, but at this moment it sounded like the best idea Sam had ever come up with.

Pushing Castiel up against the tree, he lifted the man off the ground and nestled his waist right against Castiel's groin, using his arms to help wrap the angel's legs around him. Now this was nice, having Castiel closer to his height.

Castiel knew that to do so would be a terrible abuse of his powers, twisting time back on himself simply to arrive a few moments earlier with coffee. But he nodded anyway to put Sam at ease. Wrapping his legs around the younger Winchester in a way that he found was the most natural, he was again level with those beautiful eyes. His wings fluttered behind him as he ran both his hands up the back of the hunter's neck into his hair, massaging the scalp lightly as he marveled at the softness of the long tendrils.

Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead to Sam's as he smoothed his hands back down the sides of his hunter's neck and over his collarbones, fingertips dancing lightly over tan skin and beautiful shapes of the muscles housed under it. He was exploring the body of the mortal in a way almost entirely alien to him. Energies were what he knew; he could seek out and sooth hurts, see what was out of place... But now he was simply enjoying the tactile sensations that Sam's body offered. His fingertips traced the tattoo gently before he lifted his eyes back to Sam’s, having never pulled his forehead from his mate's--for undoubtedly, even though they had not lain together yet, Castiel considered them mates with the markings they both willingly wore.

Running a hand into Sam's hair again, the angel lifted himself, leaning forward to eagerly cover Sam's mouth with his own, chest to chest, fingers curling as he draped his other arm around the broad set of shoulders and pulled him tight. He was trying to be gentle, though his strength would probably leave fingerprint shaped bruises scattered over Sam's shoulder blades.

Sam placed a hand against the ancient redwood, steadying himself as Castiel's fingers ghosted over his skin. His entire body felt like it was aflame with Grace and desire, a pleasant enough smoldering in the pit of his stomach, but everything else ached with need for Castiel. Feeling completely out of control in the presence of Castiel, who shone brighter than the sun, like his own personal beacon, Sam's fingers pressed against the bark painfully to find something that wasn't this glorious assault on his body to focus on. He didn't notice when ice started forming beneath his fingers or when his lips turned blue and chilled, fighting for his own form of control in the face of an angel.

Then Castiel was on his mouth again and those lips felt like coals against Sam's own, which were frozen. His mind flashed a story of an angel placing a burning coal against the lips of a prophet so that he would be cleansed, and as he slipped his tongue into Castiel's mouth, he felt like Castiel was purifying him with his Grace and holy fire.

Castiel moaned softly against lips as cold as ice plying his own and opened himself willingly to the intrusion, his body reacting with what had to be vestiges of Jimmy's instinct as he rolled his hips against Sam's; pressing their bodies together, the air stolen away from him lungs as he realized all of Sam's body was dropping in temperature. The chill crept into him even as his own warmth seeped back into the mortal, but the Angel bucked against Sam again because it had felt amazing the first time. The second only prompted another, and another because the friction between them felt good and right.

The chilled flesh on his own overheated skin was completely surprising and he only wanted more of it. The area of the tree under Sam's hands began to pop and crackle as Sam's powers froze the sap. "Sam," Castiel gasped as he reached up to grab Sam's forearm, pulling his hand off the tree and onto himself to stop the whine of the soul of the tree. "Ah... touch me instead," he whispered, shivering as a hand so cold it burned touched his skin. It was easy enough for him to handle.

Again he ground into the man, fingers tightening in Sam's hair, kissing hungrily at his chin and jawline.  Licking his bottom lip, he panted quietly and redoubled his efforts. His nails bit into Sam's back leaving half-moon imprints over the strong shoulder blade as he lifted his lips to Sam's ear.

"Please, Sam. I want to lie with you," he breathed, closing his eyes and meaning it in the most biblical sense.

Sam felt Castiel grinding against him and he let out a low moan from the back if his throat, the friction making it all too obvious how badly they both needed more. As his temperature continued to drop, he couldn't believe how right this felt, their polar opposite temperatures creating their own atmosphere between them. Every inch of Castiel's skin felt like it was setting him on fire and while he knew it was all in his head, his skin still felt like it was bubbling and blistering.

"That sounds... heavenly."

So he gripped the angel tight and pulled him away from the tree, bouncing him up slightly so that he could get a better grip and for the small amount of friction he knew it would create. "You have a choice though," he breathed, mouth biting down on Castiel's trapezius, wanting to leave more marks on his body no matter how temporary they might be. "I can either lay you down right here, or you can teleport us to the bed of your choosing."

Castiel squirmed against his marked one, the one who had chosen him, and gripped harder as Sam peeled him off the tree. It didn't occur to him how strange it might seem for anyone to witness them, to see him hanging off of the hunter like a petite schoolgirl. All that occurred to him was that Sam's skin was so cold it was making his own skin paler where it was touched and his fingers would have frozen were it not for the grace pulsing through his vessel. He could see his breath as it crossed with Sam's, warmth meeting cold, a silent song of fire and ice.

He gasped as teeth sank into his shoulder, tipping his head back and rolling his body against Sam's again, all three pairs of wings fanning behind him as the angel dragged his nails across skin almost hard enough to draw blood; certainly strong enough to leave large welts. His other hand slipped from the hunter's hair to the mark on his chest, clearly trembling as he fought all the sensations intent on divesting him of his sanity and strength of character.

Stained wings remained spread as the angel mutely processed what the human had said, eyes flickering over Sam's lips as he offered his answer.

"I have no preference. Do you?" He whispered. If he had been a normal mortal his teeth would have been chattering by now. Sam's abilities, what he was doing just this moment, were confusing; but the angel believed it must have something to do with excess energy from the gift of grace, so he did not question it.

As much as laying Castiel down on the forest floor and having sex among the ancient trees sounded particularly inviting, he realized that this would be Castiel's first time having sex even though his vessel certainly had before. He wanted it to be as painless as possible, and Sam knew from personal experience how much a stick in the small of your back could become more than a simple annoyance in the middle of sex. So he leaned forward and whispered into Castiel's ear, "Find us a nice little room where we won't be interrupted for a while."

Castiel nodded with eyes already half lidded before closing them, mentally searching. Then his fingers gripped Sam even harder and they disappeared from the ancient redwood forest.

Sam thought the way they fell onto the bed to be an especially nice touch on Castiel's part.


	8. Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel learns of dark plans on the horizens.

As Sam stood in the coffee shop, he couldn't help the smile that was perhaps permanently plastered to his face. That had been incredible, and Castiel had certainly picked the classiest hotel room Sam had ever seen. As far as memorable locations, it rather trumped anywhere else; the tallest hotel in Hong Kong, with strips of gold lighting that outlined the room and basked them in a gentle glow against the backdrop of the downtown lights.

Shaking his head to keep himself focused on the here and now, he moved a little closer to Castiel as they waited for their coffee orders to be called. They were in Paris, getting coffee. Paris. Because of course that was simply where you went to get the freshest brewed espressos. Sam couldn't help marveling at how surreal this all felt. It was almost as if he'd fallen in love with a billionaire, except one who had access to teleportation and superhuman stamina. If they hadn't needed to get back to Dean he would have been so very happy testing how long they could keep going.

"Sam." The barista called out. "Your order is ready."

Squeezing Castiel's shoulders slightly, he picked up the small cardboard tray of drinks. "Time to face the music." He muttered under his breath as he turned back to his angel. "Ready?"

Castiel hadn't been sure at first where he should take them, but the instinctive urge to be close to home was not something he consciously recognized as he picked one of the most expensive suites in the Tallest Hotel in Hong Kong. He thought Sam might have enjoyed the view but, then again, Sam hadn't had eyes for anything but him. He was glad, for he didn't have eyes for anything but Sam, either.

But now Castiel was standing quietly in front of Sam, blue eyes slightly dreamy and wholly satisfied. Lying with Sam had been more satisfying and surprising than he could have ever imagined. He'd given himself to the human in ways that he had never dared to before, and he was now far too aware that included his heart. His first mark, the claim that Sam had laid, was still displayed proudly on his neck--a bright splash of vermillion and scarlet.  He doubted he would ever rid himself of it unless Sam took a disliking to it. He truly belonged to and with Sam now, and his grace crackled merrily inside him, bubbling and bright. His wings were all folded neatly to his back and he looked up at Sam over his shoulder, eyes softening a touch more as the hunter took the tray of coffee.

After their union as they took a few moments to redress each other, an intimate act in its own right, Castiel had asked about where to find the best coffee as he was buttoning Sam's jeans with his hands, just because he could. The younger Winchester had laughed jokingly and told him Paris as he'd tied the angel's blue tie neatly, the correct way, and patted the lapels of Castiel's trench coat down.

So Castiel had, of course, taken them there, the joke flying completely over his head, determined to bring Dean back the best in the hopes it might soothe his irritation, if he even was irritated. With the drinks in hand Castiel took a deep breath and nodded, reaching out to set his fingertips on Sam's elbow.

They were sitting in the impala once more in their respective seats, though the angel wished he could have brought Sam in the back with himself.

"Hello again, Dean," he said softly, looking up at Dean in the rearview mirror. "We've returned."

Dean had been listening to music while Castiel and Sam had been gone, at first singing along to it to keep his mind occupied, but then he'd fallen silent as he began to wonder where the two of them had gone. As fifteen minutes had passed and they hadn't returned, he figured Sam had been a bitch and wanted some really fancy coffee so they were waiting in line. When half an hour passed, he wondered if they hadn't gone to get coffee beans from South America and brew coffee themselves. At just shy of an hour he was honestly getting worried that they might have run into some trouble and even though it was ridiculous for him to worry about an angel and his brother who had enough powers to protect himself, he still felt guilty that he'd let them go off alone.

So when they finally appeared back inside the car and Castiel gave a quiet greeting, it was understandable that his mind had been elsewhere, so that he almost ran the car off the road. "Don't. Do. THAT!" Dean yelled, aggravated as much with his own reaction as with the fact that Castiel just popped in out of nowhere all the time. His eyes glanced over quickly to check that Sam had been brought back in one piece and, sure enough, Sam looked just fine. So that brought up a much more pressing matter than angels’ habits of startling their human charges.

"Now, is anyone gonna tell me what took so freakin' long? You could have grown your own coffee plantation with how long you were gone." His eyes noted the three cups settled in Sam's lap, so at least they hadn't forgotten to get his coffee during their grand adventure.

The angel blinked, showing almost no reaction as Dean nearly ran the car off the road. If they were in any danger at all he would have protected them and even the car Dean was so fond of. He almost found Dean's reaction amusing though the man was clearly irritated by their appearance. Castiel had decided that bending time just to cover their tracks was an unforgivable waste of grace and so had decided to simply let it flow normally while forgetting that they might need to explain.

Fighting back the memory of Sam over him, surrounding him, touching him, the lips and the stubble, the cooled body... Castiel opened his mouth. "We went to Paris," he answered. "Though coffee plants take longer than an hour." He still didn't get a lot of Dean's sarcasm, but his eyes flickered to Sam's. "I wanted to try the best coffee. We had to find it first," he murmured, remembering finding the spots on Sam's body that made the hunter groan or become more forceful, which had made the bites harder, and ...

He reached out between the seats and took one of the cups slowly, lifting it to his mouth to sip. It was scalding hot, but of no concern to an angel.

They went to Paris to taste test coffee? In Dean's mind there was no way that coffee could be worth teleporting with an angel and spending an hour just trying different shops or whatever. That sounded a bit like a torture devised in Hell, sort of like when Lisa had asked him to come along whenever she wanted to buy shoes. It had taken hours and more often than not she wouldn't find something that 'called to her'. What the crap did that even mean?

"Well, this better be some kick ass coffee..." Dean griped as he held out a hand and Sam gave it to him. Taking a small sip of the hot coffee he begrudgingly had to admit that it was amazing, but he wasn't exactly the picky type. "Alright... I'll give you that this is pretty good," he said with his eyes fixed firmly on the road. The last thing he needed to see right now was Sam's shit eating grin over how he'd converted Dean to expensive foreign coffee.

Sam reestablished a portion of his mental link with Castiel and smiled. Nicely done, Cas.

Castiel held his breath slightly, hoping that Dean would accept the answer without question and feeling a deep sense of relief when the man did just that. He could almost hum to himself as he took another long sip, looking out the window and fondly replaying the memories of what he had shared with Sam in his head. He wanted it again already; wanted to explore every inch of the mortal's body, wanted to lie in the soft bed afterwards and just be held. But they hadn't had time for that, not with the coffee issue hanging over their heads.

Pleased with Dean's assessment, the angel tipped his head to side to watch the road in front of them. "Yes. We did research," he said almost proudly, stretching his wings behind him and leaning back in the seat. It wasn't as good as food to Castiel, the caffeine had no effect on him and the taste was slightly bitter but exceptionally smooth. He'd ordered his just like Dean's, curious as to what the man liked. "Are we far?"

He mentally stroked along the tendrils Sam reached out to him with, pouring his contentedness and every emotion he didn't know how to express into them. I was going to tell him I decided to see a prom, but... That doesn't really interest me. Is there a reason he cannot know?

Oh, they had done research all right.

Sam smiled at Castiel's choice of words and took a sip from his own coffee, a far 'frillier' drink than Dean and Castiel's black coffee. That had worked far better than he had ever dared to hope, and the fact that Castiel was currently flooding his mind with his pleasure was certainly helping his optimism. Well, Dean tends to freak out when I get into relationships with supernatural beings... I just figure we should wait a little while to tell him, until this whole thing with my powers has settled down a little.

Meanwhile Dean took sips from his coffee as he focused on the road. Knowing that Sam and Cas hadn't run into any trouble set his mind at ease, even if a small voice in the very back of his head said that it was unreasonable to believe that they had been testing coffee for an hour.

They drove on in companionable silence for the rest of the day, occasionally broken up by small talk and conversations on possible hunts here and there; but largely they all just enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere of each other's company.

 

* * *

 

Three months. Three months had passed since Sam and he had claimed one another. Three months filled with a newfound joy for the fallen Angel, Castiel. He could barely get enough of his new lover, could barely stand to be separated from both of the men. Things had improved so much between the three of them and he couldn't imagine what he'd done to earn this reprieve. Sam's training was going well, and Dean finally seemed to be on board with the whole thing. The elder Winchester still didn't know about the two of them, but it seemed best for now. Castiel couldn't imagine how Dean would react to knowing what his brother and the angel did when they were alone.

The hunts had been going well, moving along much more smoothly with the help of Sam's powers; and as always, all three worked hard, attempting to track down Crowley. They needed the other half of the tablet, badly, to close the gates of hell forever. Castiel could almost taste victory and there was nothing he wanted more than to close Hell and spend every lazy day he could with Sam just loving and being loved.

It was early one morning, the sun still far from peeping over the horizon, that Castiel began to hear whispers passed along wavelengths that humans could not hear. Sam and Dean were sleeping, finally, and Castiel had been idly scanning wavelengths for any new cases, anything of import. He still would not check with the angels, he could not risk them finding him.  Perhaps Castiel was finally beginning to tune into the waves Demons communicated on;  he heard murmurs of Crowley and the tablet, speculations about where it might be. A certain name in particular caught his interest and after another glance at the brothers, he decided he could do no harm by simply looking... There were also rumors of a Fallen who seemed to be looking for the ruined stone and from what little he could hear, this fallen was no friend to the King of Hell. Castiel hadn't heard that Fallen's name in years, but he knew one thing, she was loyal to Lucifer.

That information made Castiel shiver, but he pushed it out of his mind. If any were still loyal to Lucifer, it made sense they would be looking too. They couldn't very well have the gates of Hell closed in his absence.

Spreading his wings he shaped a path to an old Mayan city, particularly the large, old temple there. Chichen Itza. It was still dark but he had no trouble at all seeing as he made his way inside, blue eyes alert as his ran his fingertips over old stone carvings, simply there to see what he could. Crowley could hide the tablet anywhere in the world and this was as good a place to start as any. If he had no luck, he would just continue listening. Flexing his wings and tucking them behind him, the angel marveled at the creations of humans past as he began sweeping the area for the tablet's energy.

The ancient temple was not as abandoned as Castiel would believe as creatures moved in the shadows, just beyond the reach of sight. Some of the creatures were harmless denizens of the surrounding rainforests; however, far more of them were the denizens of Hell, a full platoon of demons creeping through the stone construct in search of the half of the tablet that was rumored to be hidden here.

Much worse than all the demons combined was their leader, a Fallen angel who had roamed the Earth for thousands upon thousands of years. She was Pharzuph, mistress of fornication and lust; and she could smell the waves of sin wafting from Castiel like a sickly perfume. Stepping from the shadows she looked at the angel, noting the state his wings were in. Castiel was Fallen, like herself, excommunicated from Heaven but fighting on the side of the humans instead of his rightful place beside her Lord, Lucifer.

"Well, little brother, you seem to have found yourself quite the partner," Pharzuph said in her sultry tones, voice lilting and husky at the same time, power laced through it to control even the most resolute. "I'm glad to see that your time on Earth hasn't been completely devoid of enjoyment."

She was careful in her approach, showing her lack of any intention to attack Castiel. It was not often that the Fallen approached other angels outside of their own ranks, but she saw the kinship that could be between herself and this younger seraph. The sin that trailed him was delectable to behold, a twisted web that was tangling itself around him tighter and tighter; soon the poor little sparrow would be completely trapped by his deeds and would make the wrong step. She knew, all too well, how these sins came back to bite.

"So tell me, who is the lucky one that's attracted your attentions and affections?"

As soon as his sister stepped from the shadows Castiel turned on his heel, rounding to face her, blue eyes focused and intent. The whispers had been true and this was the worst scenario Castiel could imagine. He knew her and her power; he knew instantly she could read the nature of his latest sin. His heartbeat sped as his fingers flexed and his blade slid into his waiting palm, though he made no move to attack. It was always better to be prepared.

She was beautiful, everything about her stunning from her voice, to her body, to the unique taper of her wings. She was lust in angelic form. Timelessly beautiful. Helen of Troy. He knew many a soul had fallen under her influence, for lust and sex were two of the most powerful motivators in all of creation. Blue eyes flickered as he lifted his chin in slight indignation and challenge. If she was here, she was sure to have a handful (or an army) of minions about. "Pharzuph," he said quietly, doing his best to ignore her references to his deeds with Sam.

"I am not here to confess," he stated, voice irritated and lightly graveled. "Nor am I here to harm you." His wings flexed slowly as he continued to slowly rotate, keeping his front to her at all times. He was filled with unease and doubt, felt like he was being picked apart by her sharp gaze, like every one of his secrets were laid bare. It was common knowledge that he guarded the Winchesters and he wouldn't be surprised if she already knew who his partner was.

Pharzuph pouted slightly, her full lips glistening in the dim lighting of the temple. "Now, Castiel, is that anyway to greet an old sibling? You really have no need for that here," she said, eyes falling on his angel blade distastefully, her own power so often used to avoid physical confrontations unless they were sexual in nature. “I think I can safely assume that we are both here looking for a little piece of prophecy, no?"

Walking towards Castiel, her hips moved with a gentle swaying, flaunting a body that she knew he had no interest in. "I understand that you want to help your human acquaintance and your lover, but really, Castiel, I'm afraid I can't let you have it. You do understand, don't you?" Stopping a few yards shy of him, keeping an amiable distance between them so as to lessen Castiel's unease, she flapped her three pairs of scarlet wings into existence.

Pheromones were rolling off of her in gentle waves, affecting all creation around her, but she did her best to keep them from drifting towards her little brother; while she knew that he had finally learned of the pleasures of the flesh, she also realized he wouldn't appreciate her influencing him just then.

"So, we seem to be at an impasse. Neither of us want to hurt the other but we both need the tablet fragment. Is there any way I could convince you to let this pass you by? Because you do realize that once the Winchesters have closed up the gates of Hell, Dean won't appreciate your union with Samuel." Her wings fidgeted, showing how little she liked what she was having to explain. "Unfair, because while he's out having all the one night stands and midnight rendezvous that he could ever want, he doesn't like the idea of his brother being together with anything supernatural, anything that might come back to bite them later."

"And let’s face it, Castiel, you aren't exactly on Dean's ‘Nice List’, are you? How long do you think it will be before he realizes that you've been deflowering his precious little brother? Pouring your Grace into him? Dean has quite the fascinating relationship with his brother; almost dangerously close, aren't they?"

Castiel's lips thinned as he swallowed and then parted again, taking a small breath as his sister sauntered toward him, oozing confidence and a sexuality that no mortal would ever have a hope of resisting. His fingers flexed around the hilt of his blade again as if to reassure himself it was still there and he hadn't dropped it. "The tablet," he confirmed, brows coming together with a slight nod, sliding one foot backwards across the dusty stone and listening to the hiss of his shoe echo down the dark corridors.

"No, Pharzuph, I'm afraid I cannot let you have it. This world belongs to the humans. Not Lucifer," he breathed, blinking as her wings bedazzled him. He stared at them for several seconds in awe, unable to remember if they had ever been white before. Looking back at her, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The weakness of a vessel shown through as the angel's gaze sharpened, pupils beginning to slowly dilate. She could not help what she was.

Black-tipped wings unfurled from his own back mantling defensively as he continued to listen, lulled by her voice despite himself. "Dean doesn't know," he whispered, imagining the look of surprise and betrayal he would get if he did know. "And if he did, I..." he shook his head and closed his mouth. It didn't matter, he shouldn't be discussing it anyway. He glanced down at being told he might bite them and felt shame rise in the back of his throat, which he swallowed down dutifully. He wasn't going to lie to them, he wasn't going to hurt them; he was going to help them, hoped to save them.

He felt unmasked and defenseless and it was beginning to anger him, this helplessness to deny the truths she whispered. "I love Sam," he finally said, stiffening his shoulders. "If Dean loves Sam, he will understand. He will want us to remain happy." He didn't know if it was the truth but he could lie to himself, and so he did.

"You need to leave here, Pharzuph." he breathed. "Stop searching for the tablet. It will only end in disappointment for you."

"Oh, is that so? Because from what I've heard of those brothers, they're almost morbidly twisted together. I remember the stories Azazel used to tell us of Dean's devotion to his little brother." Pharzuph's form shimmered for a moment, her sensuous curves straightening as he stretched herself taller, form changing entirely until Sam stood in front of Castiel.

Borrowing the voice of Castiel's lover from his own mind, she began speaking again. "You see, Dean needs Sam. Even now, even after all the pain and the distrust and the betrayals. And Sam, well, I'm glad that he's found pleasure in you, that you have been keeping him company. But I think we both know he has a claim on his Soul that supersedes your little marking." Her six crimson wings grew larger and transformed to those of a true archangel, dark as the depths of space and each feather tip encased in the lightest frosting of ice.

"You know what is going to happen, and locking him back in the Cage won't stop it." She noted the way Castiel was slowly becoming distracted, listening to her words even though he fought them. "Father told us long ago that they would be one, and while we all pride our own special brand of free will, I think we all know that some things are just simply going to happen. But don't worry," finally close enough, she reached out with Sam's form and cupped Castiel's face, "Lucifer won't hold it against you. He knows how irresistible I can be. His vessel, of course I would be irresistible for a Fallen like yourself, Castiel, so similar to him."

Castiel was not at all prepared for the angel's physical shift into the shape of his lover and he took another half step back. He still knew it was her, of course, but it was so disconcerting to have what seemed like Sam's eyes on him, Sam's voice in his ear, hissing soft truths that he would prefer not to acknowledge. At once he felt both lulled and disgusted, awed and angry that she would dare use such tricks on him.

He lost no small amount of self-respect for himself that he was standing here listening like a fledgling just learning its stories. His breath caught as he recognized the wings meant to be Lucifer's and his eyes widened slightly as they shimmered even in the darkness. It forced him to consider the full image--Sam, with Lucifer's wings. Sam as Lucifer's vessel. He couldn't stop the wave of jealous hurt that flickered through him.  "His soul is his own. Not mine. Not Lucifer's," he ground out softly, looking at the floor and growing more tense as he tried to fight several different urges at once.

"I will not let it happen again," he growled, lifting his head back up, eyes set in determined lines. "They were one once. That was enough. It will not happen again. Sam has no reason to say yes." His fear showed in his voice as a seed of doubt sprouted in him.

The hand that cupped his cheek felt just like Sam's and the voice that spoke sounded just like the hunter's, full of forgiveness. A rage grew inside of him them as she hinted that Lucifer would forgive him for being with Sam and he reached out quickly, grabbing her by the throat and pressing the tip of his blade up to her diaphragm. "Sam does not belong to him, Pharzuph," he snapped, wings flaring and giving an angry flap.

"I don't want to hurt you. I have already killed too many of us. But if you don't stop this madness, or stop trying to free Lucifer, I will do it," he threatened, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Oh, Castiel, I'd like to see you try," Pharzuph replied in a tone of crystallized honey and darkest nights, her own eyes flashing back. Suddenly she blasted Castiel with her pheromones and flew away from him, her wings beating the air in great strokes. Her powers blinded the younger angel to who she was, what she was, everything beyond the fact that he wanted her.

In that moment, thousands of miles away, Sam awoke from a dream feeling his mental connection to Castiel weakening, straining. It was something that he'd never experienced before and he wondered what could be the cause. So with his mind still slightly addled by sleep and the dream he had been woken from, he reached out to their connection and sent a careful inquiry along with the tail end of his dream which had included a rousing performance of his affection for Castiel.

He had no idea that half a world away Castiel was fighting a fellow Fallen and needed complete focus.

Castiel's eyes narrowed as she spoke, and just as he was about to end her he was knocked back a half pace by her sudden burst of power. He closed his eyes tightly, breathing heavily as his hand tightened so hard on the molded hilt of his blade that it squeaked. When he opened his eyes and settled them on her again, still in Sam's form, he trembled, overpowered by an angel who knew her element far too well and for much longer than he.

He felt the gentle nudge on his psyche and the mental link he always kept open with Sam these days delivered to him the hint of a dream that set his blood aflame. Sam. He wanted Sam, and there he was, so close and so intoxicatingly beautiful. His fingers loosened, and the blade fell to the floor with a soft clatter, as he trained his eyes on his lover. Another moment and he was moving forward recklessly, forgetting about the demons that must be crawling through the place, forgetting that Sam was in a hotel miles away, forgetting that his weapon lay discarded on the floor. His eyes were hungry as he strolled after the sister who hid behind the guise of his lover.

"Come here" he ordered quietly.

Pharzuph smiled with Sam's lips, the playfully hungry expression that she knew Castiel lived for. Reaching out, she pulled Castiel flush against her, letting herself completely submerge beneath the memories that Castiel had of Sam, perfectly molding herself into the image he had in his head. This was far from her first time seducing someone with whom they wanted most; although it wasn't often she was able to practice on another angel.

She really should thank Sam for whatever he'd done to add that last little push to Castiel.

Leaning in she bit down on her brother's ear, sucking greedily at the flesh between her teeth, grabbing Castiel's forearms so he couldn't touch her back. For as dominant as Sam seemed to be at times, she enjoyed making her partners wait, building the tension until they were all but begging for her, for their lover, for sweet release. And Castiel, it appeared, was so very weak when it came to touching Sam.

Using a bit more of her glamours, she made her skin feel cold, lacking the true cryokinesis that Sam and Lucifer both possessed. She finally released his ear, running her tongue across its edge as she pulled away and moved for the mark that Castiel had yet to heal. Putting both of Castiel's wrists in one hand, holding them behind him with Sam's vice-like grip, she used her free hand to loosen his tie and undo the top buttons on his shirt, exposing the bruised flesh. "Tell me how much you want me, Castiel, and I'll show you how much I want you."

There was the smile that drove him completely wild lately; playful, hungry, the look that told the fallen Seraph that he still had a purpose and a reason to keep going each day. He pressed himself against hard muscle, breath shivering out of him already, not aware that in his lust he was an open book. That all of his memories were there for her to read and rifle through at will. Giving a soft moan of pure want, the Angel craved one thing and that was his lover's touch.

He bucked slightly against her as she bit his ear, tipping his head back and parting his lips, reaching out to touch in turn only to be grabbed. Frustration bubbled in the Seraph and he almost whined, squirming, twisting his wrists. If he really wanted to, he could have broken free from Sam's grasp and the charade would have been over the moment he realized he couldn't, but the Seraph didn't want to break free. He didn't want to fight. He just wanted Sam and everything the mortal was willing to give him. From his body, to his soul. His grace sparkled with avarice.

The familiar chill began to glide along his skin and he could feel the warmth of the mouth on his ear begin to fade. He kissed at her cheek, her temple, anything he could reach as his arms were wrestled behind him. He shivered and craned his head forward to attempt kissing his lover once more as the damp, ancient air caressed his skin. "Nghhh. I want you more than redemption," he whispered, more than willing to spill his secrets to the one he believed was his lover. "Please, Sam. I need you."

There was certainly an appeal to Castiel that Pharzuph could appreciate, so she decided to take her time, enjoy the younger angel a little more than she might have otherwise. She touched Sam's lips down to the bruise and began to suck, finally releasing Castiel's wrists so she could use both of her hands to undo his shirt. Mouth still latched to the hickey, she slid off Castiel's shirt and trench coat, exposing his torso to the warm air inside the temple.

Eventually she broke away from his skin with a light pop and licked away any extra moisture, tongue outlining the now livid mark. "Well then," she said, dropping Sam's voice even deeper, huskier, "you should be glad to know that I'm not offering redemption, because there's nothing wrong with you, Cas. You're exactly what I've always wanted, strong, powerful, self-reliant, and mine. Just as I am yours." Each adjective was highlighted by a slight roll of Sam's hips, hands holding the small of Castiel's back.

While distracting Castiel by bending down slightly and biting onto his neck, she raised his angel's blade into the air and pointed it at his back with her telekinesis. And while she was planning on enjoying this for a little while longer, she really couldn't afford to have him interrupting her plans for Lucifer's resurrection. Hopefully he wouldn't hold this against her: after all, all's fair in love and war.

She bit down a little harder until she'd broken through the skin and then loosened her jaw so that she could lap at his blood. The Grace in his blood still tasted like Heaven, and she marveled at it, for all of the other Fallens' Grace had long since twisted and changed.

Sam really didn't know how lucky he was to have Castiel as his lover.

Castiel's hands came around the moment she released them, gripping at the waist that was the perfect match to his lover. His grace practically ached with need, sending a surge of desire along the length of the connection with Sam and even lighting the portion of Grace up that he had gifted the human. He shivered, digging his fingers into Sam's waist in a manner that could not be considered gentle as he ground his body against the one of his supposed lover and reached up to drag his nails down along the contoured muscle of Sam's back hungrily as his head remained tipped toward the ceiling. It was an odd place to be struck so hard with need in, but they were alone and he had no inclinations to fight it. The lost seraph was no stranger to rougher sex by this point, and he knew Sam didn't mind scrapes or nips in the least.

The area surrounding the hickey on his neck was still on a regeneration hiatus and when she finally removed her mouth, the redness there had grown even deeper, even more vivid, and like before did not heal. The words that came next, in Sam's voice, were incredibly empowering, carefully constructed and exactly what the Fallen Seraph needed to hear. He groaned and leaned forward, running his lips up the length of Sam's throat, the angel laid his own trail of small nips and bites and kisses littered with soft visceral noises that only grew more insistent as his neck was plied with teeth.

"Sam, please," he begged hoarsely, rising on his toes as he pleaded quietly. He felt no danger, even as Sam's teeth dug harder and harder into his neck, hard enough to split skin. Angelic blood flooded the rough imprints as Castiel bucked and fumbled for Sam's jeans, shivering as he fought with the buckle to Sam's belt, lips parted and eyelids fluttering roughly. "You've made me so happy, Sam. You cannot fathom just how much I care for you," he breathed, every fiber of his being exuding honesty at his confession as his grace irradiated with endearment and desire. "You give me purpose."

Pharzuph’s smile morphed into a devilish smirk as she gave the angel sword a light tug and the blade sank into Castiel's flesh, piercing through his back and into the soft tissue of his kidney. Right at the same time she bit down on his throat and tore skin away, just nicking his carotid artery so that blood began gushing out with each pump of his vessel's heart. Pulling out the sword with a vicious twist she flew away from him, dropping into a battle stance, weight perfectly balanced over the balls of her feet.

Still smirking with Sam's visage, she looked down at her brother, tutting softly. "Oh, Cas, you really should realize that we all want the same thing, for Sam to be happy. Do you really think you're who he's meant to be with? Really?" Switching the blade from one hand to the other in a feint, she dove in and slashed across his abdomen, the cut finishing with a shallow end and bleeding lazily.

"But who knows, our Lord might even let you share with him, if it brought Sam joy. None of you understand him, but we... we fought beside him, we saw his devotion for his vessel, even when he knew he wouldn't be born for thousands upon thousands of years." Her words were becoming more and more impassioned, a fervent plea for Castiel to understand, to change sides even though she knew his stubborn nature would never permit him to do so.

However, it also served as a wonderful distraction as her demonic legion circled around behind the wounded angel. "So I ask you one last time: join us brother, join in our grand rebellion against Fate, against the Plan, against God himself. Join us and know that you will be able to protect Sam for all eternity."

Castiel was so overcome with desire that he hadn't noticed the sword until it was too late. His surprised gasp of pain echoed in the temple as his nails raked down his sister's back, now desperately clawing instead of clinging as blood spurted from the vicious wounds. It was enough to bring him back to his senses but too late. She had chosen not to kill him, but the wound made by his blade hemorrhaged grace as if it were blood. Abruptly, the connection to Sam stretched taut as pain blossomed across it and then unraveled quickly without the grace to keep it sustained. It snapped, almost like a rope, and then Castiel was alone, staggering backwards, clothes stained with blood as he stared at his sister. His regeneration began to slow as his grace seeped away and he was still too overwhelmed by what was happening to react quickly enough to stop a second cut along his stomach.

He trembled, growing paler quickly as she continued to speak, his brows furrowed. He tried desperately to stay on his feet but already he was feeling dizzy and faint. He pressed a hand against the wall to steady himself, fingers to his neck, pressing hard to stop the bleeding though it was all but useless. Finally whatever was holding his knees steady broke and he dropped to one, gasping for breath as pain inundated his every motion.

He was now faintly aware of the demons that were no longer afraid to hide creeping around his wounded vessel like a savage pack of wolves. Castiel felt cold, so cold, and he dropped his bloodied hand to the floor, shoulders bowing in exhaustion and defeat. How had it all come to this? How could he let himself be taken so easily. Tired but angry eyes lifted to his sister as blood ran down his neck, creating small rivulets over his bare skin.

"No," he whispered. "Live for yourself, Pharzuph. Free will is ours now. You owe no one your allegiance..." he breathed slowly, swaying slightly. "Sister... Please." The words he wanted to say remained silent but his plea was clear enough. Don't free Lucifer. Don't take the Winchesters from me. Don't destroy humanity for the sake of one Fallen. "If you open the cage, Michael will escape too," he warned weakly, looking around at all of those present.

Pharzuph looked down at Castiel with a somber smile and kindness in her eyes, pity. "You don't seem to understand, Castiel. Michael is no longer going to be a problem because you have been training Sam. And even if he is able to exit the Cage, do you think that Dean would ever say Yes? He will have no way to stop Lucifer unless he decides to take a stand in Heaven."

With a guttural command to the demons in a tongue unknown to Castiel she started walking away to retrieve the portion of the table. "And really," she called back over her shoulder, "we should also be thanking you because you'll serve as the perfect distraction. Both you and Dean will. Things couldn't have worked out better for us."

The demons stepped forward, malicious smiles on the face of every human they wore, and they wrapped Castiel's wounds and used his own blood to draw sigils on him, robbing him of his powers. Then they bound him with cord made from the hair of Samson, one of the ancient treasures stolen by the Fallen before the war in Heaven.

Pharzuph took the piece of the tablet and teleported it somewhere. With one last longing look at Castiel, she dropped Sam's visage and waved to him. “Toodles." Then she was gone with the whisper of wings and the promise of sin.

Castiel fought for breath as pain lanced through him with every heartbeat, staring up at his sister with a mixture of fear, anger and horror. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he trembled, willing himself to scrape together his fast fading grace. He couldn't do it, there was nothing left to hold onto, and it would take a long time for him to recover. He wheezed softly, pale, eyelids fluttering as he fought the urge to slip into unconsciousness, trying to understand what she had said.

He felt sickened when she spoke of using him as a distraction, feeling as if he'd let himself walk into a trap. And now Dean and Sam were several thousand miles away without Castiel's protection.

Numbly, he weakly fought as the demons used his own blood to paint symbols on his bared skin and then he was lying on his side in a puddle of his own blood after he was bound. Blue eyes fluttered weakly and he found himself drifting, fingers uncurling as he lost his strength.

What had he done? How stupid could he possibly be? Had he ruined everything?


	9. Don't You Want Your Angel Back?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is missing and the boys have no idea what's happened, and the ritual they're trying isn't helping anything. So what will they do when help comes from an unexpected front?

Meanwhile, half a world away, Sam was in the shower, trying to ride out the rather passionate response that Castiel was sending through their mental link. As always there was something completely overwhelming in how emotions felt over their connection, and all Sam could do was hold his head under the stream of water as he felt ghost touches and affection breathed over his body, Castiel's Grace inside him making the angel's actions echo on Sam's body even thousands of miles apart.

Just as he felt confident enough to try and respond against this more amorous mental display than usual, he crumpled to the floor as pure pain drove through his every synapse. Something had hurt Cas, hurt him badly, and their connection faltered and then was shredded by the white hot pain. Sam curled against himself, his body trying instinctively to protect him against the mental pain.

Deep breaths and the constant drumming of water against his skin slowly steadied Sam, calming him enough to push off the ground and hold himself up with a hand on the tiles in front of him. Where there had been a glimpse into Castiel's essence just moments before was a gaping void, a dangerous silence that foretold calamity.

Something had happened to Castiel, of that Sam was certain.

Stepping out of the shower Sam toweled himself off just enough that he wouldn't drench his clothes and then threw open the door to their latest hotel room. His eyes fixed on Dean and he tried to draw in some comfort from the dependable presence of his brother. "Dean, I think something's happened to Cas."

Dean had woken to the sound of Sammy's shower and had already risen and dressed when he heard Sam slip. Smirking at the thought, the elder Winchester chuckled and called, "You all right in there, Sammy?" He didn't receive a response but he wasn't worried at all, sure that the sound of the water drowned out his voice. Sam had taken beatings from demons before; a slip in a tub wasn't going to hurt his knucklehead of a sibling much.

He took a sip from his flask as he listened to his brother rise and shook his head again as he began stuffing his feet in his shoes, turning on the television to casually scan for cases. For once, Castiel wasn't there to zip Sam away for training the moment he was awake. He wondered what the angel was up to, but figured he'd know in due time.

Glancing at the steam that billowed out of the bathroom as his brother left it, he paused in the middle of another sip and then lowered the flask, only a little put off by the near wild look in Sam's eyes. "Okay, look now, Sammy, I know you like training but you can't get your panties in a knot every time Cas is late for an appointment," he said lightly, humorously. Sarcasm was always one of the ways he dealt with things.

Sam shook his head, pushing his damp hair back and out of his face. "No, Dean, I know something is wrong. He's been teaching me to use telepathy, and he's not responding. He always responds, Dean. And now I can't even sense his mind at all."

He tried to think what they could do, how they could figure out what had happened to the angel. Dean simply didn't understand how serious this was, how sure Sam was that this was more than just Castiel not arriving on time or answering his phone. Something had hurt Castiel, badly, but how would he go about explaining how deep his connection with Castiel was, especially as Dean still didn't know that Cas and he were together. Somehow he couldn't see Dean being all that happy about it.

Dean glanced up at his brother again and shook his head, trying not to curl his lips in distaste at the knowledge of another 'talent' that separated Sam from being a normal goddamn human. "Maybe he just needs some time alone. Or maybe he decided to go back to Heaven. 'Bout time he grew some balls," the elder said with a shrug, though something in his stomach was twisting at the tone in Sam's voice.

Standing up and sliding the flask into his pocket, he set his hands on his hips. "You hungry? There's a diner down the road," he offered, trying not to think of what they would do if something had happened to Castiel. It couldn't though, right? He was an angel, he knew how to take care of himself.

"No, Dean, you're really not getting this. I felt something hurt Cas. We were talking and then suddenly he was in pain and gone. I don't know where he was or what he was doing, but I do know that it's serious." Ok, so that was a little white lie, but Dean didn't need more specifics than that.

"While I normally would agree that he can take care of himself, this felt bad." Sam was agitated and he only hoped that there was something they could do because he didn't have the power to teleport around to find his angel.  If Cas was in danger and Sam couldn't do something, he would never forgive himself.

"So no, not really hungry."

Dean straightened, paying a little more attention now, green eyes studying his brother quietly as he tried to pick out whether or not Sammy was telling the truth. He wanted to ask him why he was talking with Cas while he was showering and how long he'd been able to talk to the angel with his mind. How long had he been able to do such a thing? What the hell did they talk about?

"You felt something hurt him?" He winced because he hadn't meant to sound that incredulous. "You were talking to him, but you don't have any clue at all where he was? He didn't tell you anything at all?" He flipped the TV off. "Gee, that's real helpful." Looking at the floor for a moment, the hunter's eyes darted back and forth as he tried to think. "Alright, we can... uh... We can use that spell Cas used to find Balthazar, can't we? If it'll put your mind at ease. How the hell do you feel something like that anyway? I mean, I get talking, but... "

Sam was grateful that Dean was at least humoring him, but he really wished Dean hadn't chosen this moment to get curious about his powers. This wasn't exactly the right time to go telling your brother that you were banging the angel. "Trust me, it will put me at ease." Really he wouldn't be at ease until he knew Castiel was safe and sound and back with them. Sure, if something was strong enough to hurt Cas, then maybe Dean and he couldn't take it on.  But that didn't matter. They were specialists at fighting impossible odds.

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain. Apparently angels show a lot more emotion through their minds, so telepathy for them is more than just talking. And I guess when he got hurt, it was so powerful that it echoed through his mind and the connection he had open with me," he explained carefully, doing his best not to look uncomfortable.

Dean nodded slowly but cleared his throat anyway. Of course it would put Sam at ease, he hadn't come in whining about nothing. Trying to digest the new information that came from his brother about the angel, Dean felt a little pang of something he would never admit was jealousy. If Angel's communicated mostly with their minds and emotions somehow got through, too, that might explain Castiel's less than human mannerisms. He'd noticed the angel acting a lot more like them lately; he was slowly beginning to pick up things that should be humorous, smiling more often. Simple things, but it was interesting to see the shift from an emotionless robot. Still, he wondered how much more Sammy could know about the angel if their responses weren't simply verbal.

"What the hell. Next thing you know you'll be telling me you speak Enochian," he said, throwing his hands up. How long had they been doing this? What else weren't they telling him? He decided it was about time for another discussion.

Memories of them driving each other to chuckles with snippets of conversations he didn't get the context of turned over in his head and he pursed his lips. "Well alright then, do you remember the spell? I remember we needed my blood, and holy water, and there was something else..."

"Not that I know of," Sam bit back half heartedly. He'd never once found himself understanding the rare occasions when Castiel uttered anything in Enochian. "And I'm sorry, Dean, but it's not like I got a user's manual on myself, all right? I'm generally the last person to know what I can do." He fought to keep himself from getting bitchy, his natural response when he was worried.

"Blood, holy water, blood..." Repeating the ingredients over in his head a couple times, Sam ransacked his memories. Finally he smiled slightly and looked at Dean. "Myrrh. Can't say I remember the ratios though. Do you?" At least this was an avenue of action they could pursue.

"Yeah, but you've been talking to him in your head and apparently feeling him, too, for who knows how long," Dean sighed. "Wish you coulda told me," he said in a low voice. He'd thought they were over this, that Sam could trust him enough to tell him things like this. He ran his hands through his hair with another, longer sigh and looked up at the ceiling as Sam decided to repeat the ingredients. "Yeah, myrrh. Sounds right, but I didn't catch the ratios and I don't remember what Cas said. I think it was Enochian."

"Try him again? I mean... Can you check again, or keep checking or something? We're going to have to pick up some myrrh somewhere. Maybe I can call Garth and he can look to see if he can ... You know... find it, or something like it." His heart hurt at the memory of Bobby, and he rubbed at his nape.

"Dean... Everytime I tell you something about my powers you kind of fly off the handle. So, sorry if I don't clue you in on each new thing. No, we don't have time to make this about us." Sam sighed and gave Dean an apologetic look, obviously trying his best to keep the peace even though he was stressed. "Yeah, I'll keep on trying to contact him."

Looking around he clenched his hands into loose fists so he wouldn't be tempted to rub his scar for reassurance. Even though the scar no longer had power to change his reality, he still couldn't deny that he found comfort in it. And comfort was something that, lately, he'd been getting from Castiel. So where in the world was his angel?

"Should I start packing up the Impala?" He asked, needing to move, to do something. At least that would be productive as he felt the gaping hole where Castiel's mind usually touched his.

"Hey. I've been doing good lately. I've been trying," Dean snapped back holding out a finger before huffing and turning away from his brother with a soft sigh, shaking his head. And he really had been, goddamnit, so why hadn't Sam? Why hadn't Cas? Why the hell were they acting more like family while he was left floundering in the dark?

"Yeah. I'll get it," the elder of the two conceded, beginning to clear their stuff, closing Sam's laptop and wrapping the cord up before tucking it under his arm. He still couldn't shake the feeling that this was all some big joke to them--that there was something they hadn't been telling him. If they wouldn't tell him about the relatively little things like being able to talk to each other with their minds, what else weren't they letting him in on.

Pulling his key out of his jacket pocket he headed outside, mind turning thoughts of the angel over and over. What if Sam was right? What if something had hurt Cas as bad as Sam believed? He remembered how hard they had fought in purgatory together and the things that Cas had done for them over the years. What if they couldn't find him? Or couldn't help? Would Sammy lose control of his powers.

"Wherever you are, Cas, you stupid goose, you'd better be okay," he muttered.

Sam really had wanted to explain to Dean; he'd wanted so badly to know that his brother was happy for him, but he never seemed to find the right time. And now certainly wouldn't be it. So instead he apologized to Dean in the silence of his own mind as he worked. Clothes were stuffed into their respective bags, guns collected and carefully placed inside pockets and pouches and their few toiletries were stripped from the bathroom.

In less than two minutes Sam had pulled together all of their supplies, a time honored drill that he could do in his sleep. Sadly that meant that it did almost nothing to keep his mind off the continued silence from Castiel as he kept sending out pings into the void, trying his best to feel where Castiel's Grace had gone. It felt like he wasn't anywhere, which didn't make sense. Could Dean have been right? Could Castiel have gone to Heaven, or even into Hell for some reason?

That didn't make any sense, though, because Castiel had been reacting to the stupid dream that he'd sent him. Really reacting. And while Castiel was a demonstrative lover, he wasn't the sort to ignore danger around him either. He wouldn't have reacted if he felt that he wasn't safe. So what was strong enough and fast enough to take Castiel down in a matter of seconds?

 

* * *

 

"Damnit!" Dean snarled as he slammed his fist into the wall. The fucking seventh time they'd tried that fucking spell and it still didn't do a damn thing. The hunter didn't know if it was because the ratios were off, or if they were saying the wrong thing, or they just didn't have the power the angel did, but it was their only hope and they were failing at it. The elder Winchester punched the wall again and ran his hand through his hair, licking his lips and pacing back and forth before looking at his brother.

They'd used the whole day to gather supplies and do research, checking online, using a few favors to get their hands on some Myrrh, and now they were in some lonely little abandoned warehouse in the middle of god-forsaken nowhere with nothing to show for it. As the day had advanced with no sign of the angel with repeated calls and no indication that Sam could find him with his mind, Dean had grown increasingly stressed and angry; and each time the spell they tried to create from memory failed, he only grew more so. "Fuck," he snapped softly. They'd spent hours researching on the internet, had Garth do all the searching he could, and they'd turned up nothing. Dean could slap himself for not keeping a damn journal like John. If he had, they wouldn't be having this problem.

"Cas, c'mon buddy," he started, tipping his head back to talk to the ceiling for perhaps the fifteenth time in the last three hours. "If you can hear me, I need to know you're okay. We need to know you're okay. So just... come here, alright?" Castiel had never really ignored his calls before without good reason. It was really starting to sink in that Cas was gone and may not ever be coming back if he'd been hurt, as Sam suggested. Running a hand over his face, his voice turned demanding. "Dammit, Cas. Getting real sick of this bullshit."

"You do know that praying isn't going to get him here any faster, Dean." Sam griped from where he stood, measuring out a slightly different ratio of ingredients for the next try, his knuckles white from how hard he was holding the vials of holy water and myrrh. He didn't know why Dean praying to Castiel made him angry, but it did. It really did. It was a possibility that it was just the stress, frustration and worry all coming to a boiling point after hours of radio silence from the angel, but he couldn't help thinking he simply didn't want Dean to be the reason Cas came back.

"What else do you think I should do then, Sammy? Stick my thumb up my ass and do a frickin' rain dance?" Dean hissed back at his brother as he shook out his bruised hand and sucked on the knuckles for a moment to ease the ache. "’Cause somehow I don't see that getting him back any faster either." He licked his bottom lip and continued to pace, looking around the warehouse and damning everything about that day to hell and back. The Angel, Sammy's lies, the spell, it was all chafing, rubbing him raw, making him angrier and angrier.

Without paying attention to the vial of holy water in his hand, Sam clenched it into a fist and the glass broke, shattering out in an explosion. Pieces of glass embedded themselves into his hand, the table, the concrete floor. It was only too obvious that his powers had had something to do with the explosion even more than his hand, and he knew he was letting his anger get the best of him. As the holy water poured into his wounds it scalded as if it had been boiling, his skin turning an angry red and mottling.

The sound of the glass shattering had Dean spinning on his toes and he sucked in a breath as he watched his brother's hand turn slick and red. Rolling his eyes, not in a sympathetic mood in the least, especially realizing that Sam's powers were part of the problem, the elder brother struck a low blow. "Yeah, sacrificing yourself like a lamb ain't going to help either." He stalked over to take the Myrrh from Sam, glancing at the hand and glaring at his brother, unable to bite by the sarcastic, "You're training's really paying off. I can just see how well you control it."

"Damn it!" Sam said as his blood flowed down his hand and into the bowl, contaminating his latest try at the recipe. Putting his hand to his mouth he clamped his teeth down on the largest shard of glass and pulled, a wet pop sounding as the piece pulled free from his flesh. "This is just what I need, more scars all over my hands."

"Really, Moose? I would have thought you needed your angel back, but what do I know," Crowley said with his dry wit, walking out of the shadows at the back of the warehouse. "Hello, boys. I see you have yourselves quite the predicament right now."

Head whipping up and around at Crowley's voice, Sam snarled in rage. "Unless you've got him, or know where he is, you better get the hell out of here," he hissed, his voice dropping into a low warning growl.

"Well then, today's your lucky day because I do, in fact, know where your precious little feather brain has gotten off to," Crowley replied as he continued slowly moving towards them. When he reached the table that Sam was working at, he picked up the myrrh and sniffed it distastefully. "So here's my offer: I'll give you your angel back, but I need something from you troglodytes. I know how well you two work as bloodhounds, having been on the receiving end of your single minded fixations before, so I want to set you on a task."

"And you expect us to believe you?" Sam said angrily, pulling more pieces of glass out of his hand manually, because he was too angry to trust his powers. "Your track record isn't exactly convincing."

"Oh, but you don't really have any other choice, now do you? Although, if you want to keep flailing about while Castiel dies somewhere all alone, be my guest." He turned and waited a half a breath before quietly adding, "And I've never broken a deal. Your angel... can't say the same of him."

Dean's jaw worked in irritation and he wanted nothing more than to haul off and sock Crowley right in the kisser. "If you've hurt him, I swear that you will never be safe from me again--not that you are right now," The hunter growled, eyeing the demon with nothing but hatred in his body language. He was like a feral animal trapped in a human's body just waiting for the chance to let his fury off the leash.

"We don't have time for this!" he snapped. He didn't want to even consider having to work for Crowley, but if what he said was true... "We aren't making any deals. Cas... Cas is gonna be fine." He had to believe that until he knew for a fact that the angel wasn't. He had to believe that everything would be okay. Glancing at Sam and then back at Crowley, Dean lifted his chin. "We'll find him. I know we will." No way in hell was he making another deal with a demon, not even for Cas' location.

His mind whispered things he refused to say out loud. What if Cas was already dead? What if he was dying?

"Really now, Squirrel, stop jumping to conclusions. I haven't done a single thing to your angel besides find him bloody and dying. You two are the ones wasting time with all this needless animosity. I'm here to make a simple deal and save you two time and effort. I'm willing to bring your poor angel right here," Crowley looked between the two brothers with a sneer, "and all you need to do is hunt down a few rogue agents of Hell."

He waved his hand and a tumbler of Craig appeared in his hand. "So, while I know we're all manipulative, backstabbing, sodding bastards, let's put aside our differences. After all, you don't have many other options, now do you, boys? Unless you want to know that you're wasting crucial time and letting Castiel die alone." Shrugging, he closed his eyes and held the glass up to his nose, sniffing appreciatively. "I'll even throw in a little healing, free of charge."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "You sure seem to want to give him back badly... How important are these 'rogue agents of Hell' then?" This seemed like it would go so wrong so fast, and the last thing they needed right now was to be in a deal with Crowley as it went South.

"Sammy..." Dean said warningly under his breath. He knew Sam was fond of Castiel, but to make another deal with a demon?  With Crowley!? It wasn't good, it wasn't good at all to even consider such things. They had no proof that Crowley wasn't the one who harmed Castiel. They had no proof of anything other than Castiel was indisposed, though something in the back of his mind told Dean without a doubt that Cas would be here if he could after the last go he had with the King of Hell.

"What happened to Castiel? You said he's hurt. Where is he? What the hell could hurt him?" Sam seethed. There weren't many things that could hurt Castiel and the few things that could would usually kill an angel. Who would want to hurt him and leave him to die slowly? An angel from Heaven maybe? "Is he on earth?"

His eyes searched the shorter man's and he took a deep breath as he ran his tongue over his lips again, intent on getting everything he could while promising nothing.

Sam looked over at Dean, expression unreadable beyond the anger in his eyes. He knew that Dean would think him too impulsive, too weak when dealing with evil, and would take over. It never failed to piss him off when Dean took control like this, like Sam couldn't make a good decision if his life depended on it.

Crowley's eyes met with Sam's and he smirked, as if he understood exactly what was running through the younger hunter's mind. "Now, Samantha, you're asking the right questions." Glancing at Dean, the demon continued, "I didn't harm a single feather in his wings. I found him like that when I realized that someone had stolen my portion of the tablet. Interested yet?" Narrowing his eyes, he took a sip of his ever present scotch, watching Dean over the rim of his glass.

Dean knew how Sam was looking at him already but his own gaze was fixed on Crowley, eyes blazing with cold fire at the mention of the tablet. He didn't want to look at Sam, didn't want to think about what Sam would do to save Castiel. His friend. His hands clenched into fists and he would have let loose any number of retorts but they were out of time and Dean was impatient to have Cas with them again.

"What kind of Demons are you talking about? Can't keep your damn minions under control?" he snapped lowly, his voice grudging, nails digging into the meat of his palms.

"If they were simple demons I wouldn't be here, now would I? No. There's some... Loyalists who are after the tablet. Their leader is a Fallen, which makes her a rather dangerous creature for a business man like myself to tangle with. The Fallen, well, they don't exactly care for anything I can offer." Dropping his glass, it vanished before it hit the ground. "I don't know how much you two knuckleheads know about Hell's history, but if you thought regular angels are a trouble to deal with, you have no idea. Fallen are endlessly loyal to Lucifer and, while I can't imagine how they are planning to go about freeing him, I know better than to underestimate them."

One of the things Crowley was careful to never do was underestimate an opponent, no matter how simple or powerless they might seem. The Winchesters were a perfect example of that because everyone had underestimated them: Lilith, Azazel, Alastair, even Lucifer, and look where it got them. So no, he would much rather ascribe too much credit to his enemies than not enough.

"The fact that Castiel's wounds come from an angel blade... I'm sure we can all safely agree that means he was fighting an angel, Fallen or otherwise."

Dean grit his teeth, resisting the urge to leap across the table and tear Crowley apart with his bare fists, wanting to do anything that would wipe the smirk off of that smug, round face. His nostrils flared slightly as he worked his jaw muscles and his hands flexed again, but he remained tethered to the spot. A Fallen. He'd dealt with some of them before--hell, Cas was fallen, wasn't he? But he wasn't loyal to Lucifer. They knew how to trap angels. Maybe Castiel had simply been caught off guard instead of overpowered. Breathing harshly, the elder Winchester tapped the table before looking at Sam.

After a long moment of consideration, he finally opened his mouth. "What do you think, Sam?" he asked softly, his expression almost defeated. Crowley wasn't asking for their souls. He was simply asking for their skills. And they did spend their lives hunting anyway.

It didn't stop his pride from aching, though, the fact that they'd had to stoop to this level, to consider accepting more help from a demon to save another supernatural being.

Sam listened carefully and watched as Dean seemed to consider the deal. As far as deals went, this didn't seem to be all that dangerous.  Hunt after a Fallen and get Castiel back.  As much as he wanted to immediately say yes, there was a small voice in the back of his head that stopped him from agreeing. "What if we can't kill this Fallen you're so worried about? Or if they've gone back down into Hell? Does anything happen to Castiel?" He fought to keep his questions straightforward and give no inclination to how worried he was about the angel.

The King of Hell looked at Sam and pointed at him, smiling fiendishly again. "See, knew you were the smart one." As often as he made deals with people and how skillfully he could twist anything to his advantage, the demon truly did appreciate cunning and acumen. Sam's questions were astute and relevant, so he really couldn't help but approve. "I promise that even if you can't kill the Fallen, I won't do anything to Castiel. I won't enact any revenge. I should think that the fact that she's trying to revive Lucifer should be motivation enough to do the job right." His eyes darkened with a warning and he lowered his voice. "After all, you're the one who stands the most to lose if he's released again."

Dean felt a trickle of shame wind its way through him as Sam asked questions that would have never crossed his mind, but his expression did not change as he settled it back on Crowley. His fingers tapped at the table before he felt a chill wash through him at the mention of Lucifer and he looked between the two of them quickly, eyes narrowing as he ground his teeth more. Pursing his lips he began to pace again, ignoring the comforting weight of the gun tucked in his waistband. Giving into his own anger would do him no favors at the moment.

His footsteps echoed in the warehouse as his instinct and urge to protect Sam surged forward and the elder Winchester paused, then scrubbed his hands through his hair. "Fine," he answered before Sam could. Before his little brother could get him tangled up again. "Fine. I'll do it. Just... Get Cas here," he finished, quickly stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring at the floor.

Sam looked over at Dean like he had grown a second head. He could understand Dean's wish to get Castiel back, more than understand it, but where had the cool headed, stern hunter gone? What had his brother so off kilter as to agree to anything Crowley said without fighting tooth and nail? And why was he almost certain that if their roles had been reversed Dean wouldn't have let him say yes.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you aren't completely hopeless." Snapping his fingers, Castiel appeared on the floor, his bindings and sigils cleaned off and just healed enough by Crowley's demonic powers that he wouldn't die. "The Fallen you're hunting for is named Pharzuph. Once bird brain wakes up, he might have more information on her for you." Turning he waved over his shoulder.  "Happy hunting, boys. I'll be rooting for you."

Sam was over to Castiel before the demon had vanished back into the shadows, stopping just short of actually touching the angel in fear that he would hurt him worse. Gathering all the power he could into his hands, he laid them over the nasty gash on Castiel's abdomen and focused, trying to regenerate the cells.  But no matter how hard he tried, it didn't work. He knew that his healing abilities were all automatic, all geared for only healing himself but how he'd hoped he could help Castiel with it.

Castiel had spent the day in complete agony, teetering on the edge of death, alternating between unconsciousness and a numbed sort of awake that wasn't entirely lucid. He knew he was dying, again. He knew he was going to leave Sam and Dean unprotected and perhaps that gave him the strength to hold on as long as he did. His Grace was drained and his body broken, but Castiel's will was unearthly. Sometime in the afternoon, though, he had begun to lose the fight and sank into an unconsciousness that he would not have woken from without intervention. He didn't wake when Crowley appeared, was unaware of his cleansing and healing, and was unresponsive as his still bared body was lain before the boys. All three wounds were still nasty but at least the arteries had been sealed and blood was once more getting where it should.

Dean sputtered out a curse when he saw the angel and moved forward with none of Sammy's hesitation, eyes wide as his hand hovered over the pallid angel. The wound to Castiel's back was not visible yet but Dean's hand carefully inspected the bite mark on his neck. He felt sick that he hadn't been able to stop this, not that he even knew what happened. "We gotta... We gotta get him to a bed--a hotel, something," he mumbled, looking up at his brother with worried eyes. "Shit. Cas? Cas, wake up," he whispered gingerly, tapping Castiel's jaw lightly. The angel's head fell to the side, as limp as the wings twisted under him--wings that Dean could not see and was actually standing in.

"Can you get him to wake up? Can you do that telepathy thing?" He asked as he slid his arms under the angel and lifted him gently, revealing the thin wound beneath though he could not see it.

Sam watched Dean's reaction to seeing Castiel injured and as much as he wanted to be the one who held the angel securely, it warmed his heart to see the concern that Dean had for the angel. It was rare that Dean truly cared about anyone these days, for after Purgatory he seemed to almost completely shut down. So he stood and followed Dean to the Impala, stretching the Grace that Castiel had given him, trying to connect with the angel inside his own mind.

As he groped around inside of Castiel's mind he felt the smallest spark of something so he reached the Grace towards it and anchored down. There was so little he could truly do this way, but he had to try. Castiel. Castiel, are you in there? Come on, Cas, just give me something. Dean and I are both really worried about you. He honestly didn't care right now what had happened.  All he wanted was to know that Castiel was going to pull through. He just needed to hear the angel's voice again, feel those alien emotions and thoughts flit through his mind.

Using his boot to open the back door of the car, Dean slid the angel's body in gently. It seemed to weigh far too little, seemed to be far too fragile in this state. It was disconcerting, almost terrifying to see and know that Cas had almost been lost to them again. He had far too few things in this world to care about, and though he was still hardened when it came to some things, now was not the time at all to be nothing but angry. The angel needed rest and time to heal. Castiel's head rolled gently to the side again, cheek resting on leather as Dean pushed the door closed and moved around to the front seat. The supplies inside were left abandoned as he waited for Sam to crawl in and then turned his baby toward the nearest town and put the pedal down.

Castiel, though not conscious, could feel Sam's gentle touch and reached for it instinctively, winding around the threads for comfort and binding them close once more. It was reflexive, instinctive, like a person in a coma wrapping their fingers around a loved one's. He was unimaginably elated at having his lover's mental touch back and the tiny bit of grace that remained in him warmed just a few degrees though it was still so very cool. He did not speak but he was alive. Exhaustion and pain kept flittering through the bond they shared.  He was so tired, so weak.

It wasn't long before Dean pulled into the parking lot of a motel glancing at Castiel again before moving inside to rent a room. He motioned for Sam to bring the angel in and tore off the comforter on the bed as he fetched supplied for the injuries.

"He's alive..." Sam stated in a quiet, relieved voice. "He's not doing great, but he's alive. Thank God." Because really, for as much evidence as Sam had ever had that God was gone or didn't care, it had always seemed like the deity held a soft spot for Castiel and Sam always wondered why. Today, though, he was just glad for it.

When they arrived Sam got out and carefully lifted Castiel out of the backseat, carrying him bridal style, holding onto him as gently as he could. As he walked through the open door of the motel he continually sent calming, warm, comforting thoughts and emotions to Castiel, trying his best to let the angel know that he was safe with those who loved him.

What alerted him almost more than anything else was as he laid Castiel down on the bed he took his first real look at him and what he saw did not bode well. Castiel's normal radiance was so dim that Sam almost couldn't see the shifting true-form under Jimmy's skin and the black on Castiel's wings seemed to be spreading even faster without the sufficient Grace to fight it off. Castiel looked empty and drained while Jimmy's skin was gaunt and sallow.

As Dean fetched supplies from the car he let Sam's reassurance, though it wasn't much of one, play through his head. Cas was alive, and that meant he wasn't dead, but the wounds the angel had sustained were unnerving. Tucking their makeshift first aid kit (complete with fishing line and needles suitable for suturing) under his arm, the shorter brother made his way back to the room to see Sam hovering over the angel like a protective mother. He might have commented on it if he weren't so worried himself. Closing the door with his heel, he rolled everything on the bed beside Sam looking at the bite mark and what looked like a huge red hickey just a bit lower on his neck.

"Why isn't he healing? Is it because of that damn sword?" he asked worriedly as he got out the bottle of peroxide. "How the hell are we going to close that bite on his neck? Whatever bit him took a huge chunk with it," he commented. "Do you... I mean... He's gotta make it. He'll be fine. And even if he doesn't, he'll be back.  He's Cas... Like a bloody cartoon character or something," Dean rambled, trying to mask his own worry with humor as he poured the peroxide carefully on the two wounds he could see.

Sam sat down next to Castiel on the bed reaching a hand out to lay on the cold cheek. "His Grace is almost gone... I guess because he was injured with an angel sword he bled out his Grace as well as his blood. Maybe. Whatever happened, he's not healing all this because he's trying to recuperate inside first. I can feel him knitting together injuries inside his body, repairing capillaries, veins, arteries, muscle, things like that."

He wanted to pull Castiel into his arms and protect him from the world until he opened those crystalline eyes of his and then never let go. But it wasn't time to be so needy for physical contact when they needed to patch Cas up first. "I'm sure he'll pull through, Dean. I don't know about a cartoon character... I'd probably compare him with the energizer bunny." It was a weak attempt at humor, but he could tell that Dean wasn't coping as well as he probably wanted to and hopefully this could help. "Right now he just needs us to make sure his vessel doesn't get an infection and wait for him to wake up."

Dean nodded slowly and watched Sam cup Castiel's cheek so gently it made his heart ache. That Sam could touch someone so gently was amazing to him, and almost surprising. He'd seen Sam be vicious and cruel, as strong as an ox. He'd seen him throw beings across rooms, but this... This was a new side of Sam, something he hadn't seen before. He looked at the pale angel sprawled on the bed, the white froth of the bubbles on his neck and belly. Cas looked almost grey and Dean wondered how long he'd lain so injured. It must have been hell.

"I guess I won't need to sew him up then if he is mending," he said, patting Sam's back a little awkwardly but trying to be the big brother he knew he ought to. He didn't like seeing his little brother so weak. Taking the supplies to the counter he flexed the fingers he'd injured punching walls and then slipped out of his jacket. He was exhausted and there was nothing more he wanted to do than drink a bottle of whiskey and sleep. Too bad he didn't have any whiskey.

"Gonna take a nap," he muttered tiredly before climbing into his bed. He knew neither he nor Sam would probably sleep though. Crossing his arms he turned his head away from the two and closed his eyes.

When Dean mentioned that he wouldn't need to sew Castiel up, Sam finally remembered the glass shards that were still imbedded in his hand, so he got up and grabbed the medical kit. Staying close to the sleeping angel, Sam grabbed the forceps and slowly worked on pulling each piece of glass out. It was painful and slow, but important. Every few minutes he would check his connection with Castiel, as much to send reassurances to the angel as to momentarily distract himself from his hand. But then he'd go back to focusing on just his hand, forcing his own regenerative powers to activate in each of the gashes once he'd emptied them of glass.

After fifteen minutes his hand was sore and tender but cleaned out and swiftly growing new skin, muscle knitting back together. Watching his body heal itself only reminded Sam what a failure he was; that his powers were so limited as to be no help when he needed to heal Cas.

Putting the medical supplies away, he sat down on the bed with Castiel again, resting against the headboard. Time to keep watch through the night; for while he'd reassured Dean that Castiel would make it through, he honestly didn't have the confidence he'd been showing. So he took Castiel's cold hand between his own and watched the nearly imperceptible rise and fall of the angel's chest.

The angel was unconscious for another six hours at least with not a peep coming from him, physically or otherwise. The bond never failed, never faltered, and as the grace began to slowly gather in the angel again, the wounds started healing themselves more quickly, knitting together and binding. The angel still had several long hours to wait for them to be completely healed when the creature stirred mentally, at first sluggish and exhausted as he began to take note of Sam's reassurances, and then slowly, lazily returning the affection and a deep sense of love and relief before ever physically opening his eyes.

When he did, it was slow, eyelids peeling back in the darkened room as he took in where he was, fingers twitching as he remembered what had been done to him. His hand lifted and he set his fingertips on the healing expanse of his neck, wincing to find that his wounds were not yet completely healed. He was so tired, but he took comfort in the fact that Sam was there, their entwined fingers still proof of the bond they shared.

He was alive, and glad to be, and a quick check told him that this was truly Sam and that Dean was truly in the bed next to them and the angel felt almost like he could cry. His hand tightened roughly on Sam's and he turned his head to look up at his lover with a small furrow to his brow. "Sam," he breathed, his voice incredibly quiet, simply tightening his grip. "I am sorry. I was... " he faltered, having launched right into apologies and explanations, his fingers trembling. He'd come close to never seeing Sam's face again. He'd almost been unable to tell him how much he loved him, how much Sam had meant to him in the past few months.

That had frightened him more than anything--the thought that he might die without Sam knowing these things. Even though they reassured each other constantly through their bond, the angel had never actually spoken the words, frightened of the thought of blasphemy though God had shown no inclination to punish.

"I... have to tell you that I love you, Sam," he whispered with single minded determination through the pain and fatigue, his tongue thick and his body dehydrated, eyes earnest and wide and pleading for Sam not to be upset with the confession. He didn't think his lover would be all that upset or surprised, but he had to say it. He had to make sure Sam heard it in the most human way he could communicate.

Sam had been nodding off, constantly shaking himself to keep his eyelids from drooping over the long hours that he kept watch. However, the moment that he felt the first subtle activity through Castiel's end of their connection, he found himself instantly awake.  When Castiel's eyelids fluttered and finally opened, he was almost overcome with relief. Castiel was going to live! These wounds might take a little while to heal, but Cas was gonna pull through.

"Shhh, Cas, it's fine. It's really fine," Sam soothed, framing the angel's face with his hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks gently. "I know you were probably doing something idiotically self-sacrificing and trying to help us. But none of that matters right now, all that matters is..." Sam stopped his quiet comforting when he heard the next words out of Castiel's mouth.

His angel had just told him that he loved him.

Of course he'd hoped, but he knew how transient their lives were, how different their worlds were, and asking the angel to say it back had always felt like pulling the wings off a butterfly. But to hear them--those three silly, simple words--it changed everything. The things they whispered to each other in the afterglow of coitus, he'd never held them to be lasting. But this--this was stone cold sober and endlessly beautiful.

Leaning forward so that their foreheads touched, Sam's hair falling forward to frame their faces, hiding their personal moment from the world, he closed his eyes and took in a relieved breath. "I love you, too, Cas, more than you will ever know," he whispered, voice breaking as he contemplated how close he'd come to losing this.

Castiel lifted his hands to grip both of Sam's wrist's gently, brows furrowed as the fingers stroked his cheeks. He still hurt, badly, but he was so relieved that he couldn't really bring himself to care about how hard it was to move as he tried to sit up. He only ended up collapsing back, panting hard as he looked up at his lover with tired eyes, willing Sam to believe what he said, to believe that every word was true. He hadn't been the most trustworthy in the past, but he could not ever allow himself to be taken again without making sure that those he cared for knew it.

It had come as a shock to him to realize that he not only loved Sam, he was in love with Sam, and his trembling hands lifted to clutch at the lapels of Sam's jacket as he gave a soft breath. Pushing his forehead to Sam's and pressing all his love into their connection as he slid one hand to Sam's neck and clung desperately.

"I believed I was going to die and all I could think of was you. How I never told you how much... I..." he whispered, closing his eyes tightly. "I just needed you to know. I needed you to know..." he repeated. No matter what happened after this point, the most important thing was to know that he was loved and that the angel would always be on his side.

Dean had been resting fitfully on and off all night and was slowly roused from a half-sleep by soft words he didn't really catch at first. Blinking sleepily with his face toward the opposite wall, he slowly became more aware of his surroundings and the conversation taking place, though it puzzled him. Obviously Castiel had woken at some point; he could hear the angel's voice.  But the things he and Sammy were saying to one another... Now... That didn't make much sense. It couldn't mean what it sounded like, could it? Too hesitant to move, Dean continued to listen, hoping that these were just the confessions of really, really good friends.

Sam shook his head slightly, hair tickling against his lashes. "It's all right now, Cas. I knew, even if you had never said it, I knew." And it was true.  Even if he had never heard the words, he would have known by the care in the angel's touch and his endless devotion. There had been times when Sam had, and still did, worry that he was just a substitute for God, an object of devotion to which Castiel was inextricably bound. Not that such a thought wasn't flattering, but Sam hated the idea that he could be put on a pedestal, least of all by Castiel.

"Come on, Cas, it's all right. You didn't die, and you're not going to. So, just get some rest. I'll be right here when you wake up, ok?" How he wanted to hold Castiel in his arms until they both fell asleep but he had noticed the pain in Castiel's eyes, written into his features, and knew that moving him that much would cause endless agony. So he simply placed a gentle kiss against the angel's forehead, lingering just long enough for it to be beyond simple friendship.

As he sat back up he placed his hands on Castiel's chest and radiated cold throughout the angel's vessel, calming the aches and pains, icing them all at once. "Now get some rest."

Castiel trembled roughly and looked Sam in the eyes, swallowing hard and giving the smallest of smiles as Sam's hair tickled his cheeks. He was glad that Sam knew even if it had taken this long to admit it. He was glad that Sam understood that his love was not usually expressed in word but in action. His fingers tightened on Sam's jacket and he bit his bottom lip with a quiet sigh, taking a deep breath as his lover tried to soothe him with the promise of being there when he woke. He tipped his head into the kiss with a smile, enjoying the feeling of Sam's lips on him again even if he was exhausted.

Letting his thumbs run over Sam's wrist's he tipped his head up to try and kiss him on the lips gently before letting Sam send the cold through him. It eased some of the ache in him immediately and he moaned softly, closing his eyes gratefully. "Please. Lie with me?" he almost pleaded, doubting that Sam would.  He could see Dean's outline against the window and Sam had been careful not to show any sort of affection but what was appropriately friendly around Dean so far. "I just want to be close to you. Please..." he whispered.

Dean's eyes were almost bugging out of his head now as he wondered just what the hell the two of them were doing as he heard what sounded like kissing and Castiel moaning, and then more words, as if they were... Jesus Christ, this couldn't be happening. He had to be dreaming because the thought of his brother.  With Cas. That was just too much. Sam had been with Ruby, but that bitch had tricked him. Castiel? Castiel was an angel, and a dude. They couldn't... Surely they weren't...

Sam smiled fondly at Castiel and contemplated his request. "Alright. I realized today I don't care what Dean thinks--what anyone thinks. Losing you..." He would sooner tear his own heart out and leave Castiel than ever hurt the angel.  He wanted the best for him, far more than for himself. So he got up and pulled the covers back before slipping in next to him.

Then he gently eased his arm under Castiel's neck and let him get comfortable, their bodies lightly touching. Placing another kiss on the top of Castiel's head, breathing in the light scent of him, Sam was able to remind himself that his lover was all right and in his arms and this wasn't a dream or a wish. "Now get some rest, or so help me, I'll beat you until you're healthy again," Sam said with a small smile.

Castiel watched Sam quietly for a moment, wondering how he would respond to the request and giving a slight smile as Sam agreed to lay with him. He just wanted to be close, to have the strength of his lover near, the cool temperature of his body, the feeling of being safe and surrounded and loved. He gingerly pressed himself close to Sam as the man slid under the duvet next to him and adjusted his neck more comfortably on Sam's arm, lifting a hand to his chest. It was the first time they've ever really lain like this, with every intention to not have to get up in a few minutes. They could just enjoy each other until Sam decided to get up or Castiel had to flicker away to keep Dean in the dark. He didn't have nearly enough energy for that.

"I don't think beating me is going to help me gain my health back any faster," he replied, though he knew by now this was a joke and his own response was mostly directed at his own previous naiveté. Closing his eyes then, resting his cheek on Sam's shoulder, the angel willingly drifted back into a restful state.

Sam stayed awake for awhile as he laid in the bed, simply relishing the fact that he could be here with Castiel. However, after the tumult and worry of the day he found himself fading fast. As he was falling asleep, he placed one last kiss into Castiel's hair and then closed his eyes. Sleep stole over him swiftly and he welcomed it.

Dean simply lay in his bed, eyes wide and horrified as he stared at the far wall, refusing to believe that what he'd heard was what he'd heard.  There had to be some explanation for it (beyond the obvious of course). Sammy and Cas weren't...  They couldn't be screwing... Maybe it was just a brotherly thing. His mind danced around the subject, trying to come up with anything at all that might fit. He couldn't ask Sam, Sam would probably lie... But maybe he could get Cas to tell him the truth. What was really going on and why they were talking about loving each other with a conversation that might as well have been out of a freakin’ Disney movie.

For the rest of the night he was unable to sleep again, though he did roll over a few hours later to see them cuddling like... Fuck...


	10. All My Sins Gathered Round to Scorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Castiel's relationship has finally come to light, and trust is shattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of." -Kurt Vonnegut. 
> 
> Just setting the tone... or setting out a warning, all depends on how you see it.

When Dean awoke in the morning, he found Castiel asleep in the bed next to him, alone. The sight made him wonder if everything he'd heard last night hadn't been a dream, which would be strange enough, dreaming about his brother and Castiel professing undying love to each other. Yeah, if it was just a dream, he should probably get his head checked out... or get laid.

As he slipped his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, he noticed that there was a note on the nightstand.

Hey Dean,

Went to get everyone breakfast. Figured we could all use a good meal after yesterday.

Sam

Dean sighed and looked over at Castiel as he replaced the note. "Hey, Cas, you awake?" He called lightly.

Castiel was indeed awake, most of his injuries still slowly knitting together. Sam had insisted on getting up early to go get them all breakfast, and while Cas had wanted him to stay, he recognized it as an excuse for Sam to leave before Dean woke. He'd let him go without a fight, though not without reinforcing their mental bond. He'd have to talk about what had happened soon enough, and he was fine with resting for just a little longer.

The angel shifted slowly, achingly rolling to face the elder Winchester, expression still tired as he blinked and then gave a nod. "Yes, I am. Sam is going to purchase food," he told the man quietly, shifting his wings behind him and setting his cheek on his hand.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked. "I notice your hand is injured. I will heal that as soon as I am able," he promised, dipping his chin in the direction of Dean's hand.

Dean looked down at his knuckles so he wouldn't have to immediately answer how he'd slept. Flexing his fingers he contemplated what he should say; how in the world he was supposed to ask this? Normally he was all for keeping things bottled up and letting sleeping dogs lie, but this was a little different. "Oh, yeah. Got into an argument with a wall," he replied, smirking to himself.

However when he looked back up at the angel his smirk fell and he cleared his throat a few times, trying to find the right way to address this. "About last night... I, uh, are you banging my brother?"

Ok, so that wasn't quite how he'd wanted to ask it, but the direct approach had its benefits. Now maybe they weren't, but damn it, it sure seemed that way. And he knew--knew--that if they were, it wouldn't end well for Sam. Nothing seemed to end well for Sam. The boy couldn't make a wise decision when it came to a relationship if his life depended on it. Well, except for Jess. She had been perfect. But then in the standard fashion of the infamous Winchester Luck, she had been stolen away from him.

Dean was all for Sam getting some, but with a human who, preferably, hadn't stabbed them all in the back a few times. Certainly not with yet another supernatural being. Hell, without Jimmy as his vessel, Castiel wasn't even gendered; just a junkless angel.

Castiel furrowed his brows and tipped his head in confusion as Dean admitted to getting into an argument with a wall, and he wondered how he could not have heard either Dean speaking to it or, as his arguments sometimes went, punching it. He slowly pushed himself to sit up, bare chested and unclothed except for Jimmy's trousers. He didn't say anything though, wondering if Dean knew how silly that sounded before Dean looked up at him, and his smile faltered.

That couldn't be a good sign.

The angel tipped his head to the opposite side in confusion for a moment, trying hard to figure out from context what Dean was asking.

"I don't understand, Dean. What does ‘banging’ mean? I'm not hurting him, if that is what you are asking," he replied, looking almost hurt at the thought that Dean might think he was hurting Sam. Setting one hand over the cut in his stomach he sighed in pain as he struggled to push his legs over the edge of the bed, setting bare feet on the floor. "I would never hurt Sam," he promised.

Typical Cas, completely missing what was being said.

"No, Cas, banging... Are you having sex with Sam?" Dean asked with a little more force than he'd meant to, trying to hide how uncomfortable this was making him. He shouldn't have to ask questions like this. It wasn't like Sam was a teenage girl who needed to bring someone home for his approval.

But this was Cas. How in the world could this even have happened? The angel was about as emotional as a rock.

Had Sam tripped in bed with Cas one time while practicing? Ok, no, Dean didn't need that mental image.

"I don't think you would mean to hurt him..." But your track record isn't exactly stellar... Dean didn't finish his sentence when he saw the hurt in the angel's eyes. Damn it, when had Cas started being able to be hurt by what he said?

Castiel almost choked on his breath as Dean clarified the statement and his hand pressed a little harder to his abdomen as he coughed, eyes wide as they dropped to the floor. He knew immediately that Dean had been awake the night before, had probably heard he and Sam talking, but he hadn't expected Dean to ask him like this. He hadn't expected this at all.

He'd expected to be asked about what happened the day before--where he was, what had happened to him. Not his intimacies with Sam.

He stared at the carpet for a few long moments, only glancing up when the elder Winchester insinuated he might hurt Sam without meaning to anyway. He'd known it would take time to earn Dean's trust back, but he didn't think Dean still thought that lowly of him.

Stepping gingerly around the topic and not giving Dean a direct answer, he let his eyes slide away. "I love Sam," he murmured quietly, almost defensively.

"That's great for you, but what does that mean, Cas? You planning on never returning to Heaven?  On making a life with him?" Dean stood up, subconsciously needing the advantage of being higher in this situation. "And you really think you're going to want to stay and watch Sam grow old and die? Have either of you even spent a minute thinking about this? You're an angel, Cas, and my brother is a very messed up human who's barely holding it together most days."

There were so many thoughts flying around Dean's mind that he could barely find one to say before the next was trying to butt its way out as well. Sam was his responsibility to look after and nothing about this struck him as right. He could only imagine what their father would have said.

"Look, I'm grateful that you think you love Sam; he could use more people on his team but you're not human, Cas. You know I respect you, I really do, but you're not stable. Purgatory showed as much, didn't it? What happens when you screw up again and think about killing yourself? What happens when Heaven calls you in and Sam is left alone again?"

Castiel lifted his head to follow Dean with his eyes, keeping his mouth pinned shut in a tight line as the human began to list off the things that Castiel had, of course, spent so much time thinking about that he was dizzy. He opened his mouth to retort, an uncharacteristic trace of anger in his eyes as he tried to stand but failed, sinking back down onto the stiff mattress.

"Of course I have thought about it. I plan to stay with him--with you both, as long as you’ll let me. Sam's ability to regenerate has slowed his aging significantly; and even if it hadn't, it's not his body that I care about. It's his soul." He tried to defend himself, breathing heavily, licking his lips and trying to stand again. Again he failed and he dug his fists into the sheets in agitation as Dean went on to accuse him of more; of being a danger; of being weak.

"I have fallen from Heaven, Dean, and Sam... Sam has given me a reason to go on. You both have. This is where I want to stay. With you. With him. Until the very end, until each of you draw your last natural breath. I want to help you and protect you. Sam has shown me what it means to truly love," he tried to explain. "If given the option to return to Heaven right now, I would not take it," he said earnestly, trembling, roughly.

Dean closed his mouth and stared at Castiel, feeling like someone had pulled the rug out from under him. Then his mind finally caught up with one of the things that Castiel had said. Sam's regeneration would slow down his aging, significantly? "Wait... wait a damned second. Sam's... Sammy's not aging normally?" He would die before Sam? Of course that had always been a possibility, a hazard of the job, of the life. But to think that he would grow old and die, and his baby brother would still be young.

No, he'd seen what immortality and unnaturally long lives did to people. Hell, he'd seen enough of Benny's troubles to know that you didn't just age gracefully, you were stuck in time while everyone else flowed around you.

"And this... was one of the angelic powers you unlocked?" He asked, voice deathly low. If Castiel had made it so that Sam would have to outlive anyone he'd ever cared about, so help him, Dean couldn't be held accountable for what he would do to the angel. Didn't he realize that Sam had already had to live through the deaths of almost everyone close to him? This was dooming Sam to that fate for the rest of eternity, or however long he'd live to.

Castiel earnestly hoped Dean could understand, and wouldn't take this as badly as he'd taken things in the past. He wet his lips as Dean looked like he'd been physically assaulted and then zeroed in on a point that Castiel hadn't realized held so much significance. His fingers flexed again and he gave a nod.

"His aging has been slowed a great deal, yes. He will naturally live several hundreds of years, if not more." To Castiel, this was a good thing; he hadn't considered it bad at all. He'd lived for what seemed like forever and, being immortal, he wanted what happiness he could before being condemned to an eternity alone. He had suffered no ill effects from living so long; but then again, he wasn't human and never had been.

He had no concept of what something like that may do to Sam, or any other human forced to live beyond their natural span.

"It is," he said, nodding briefly, unsure of why Dean seemed so quiet. He should be happy shouldn't he? That somewhere, sometime, Sam would be able to live a happy lifetime, if not several with the angel.

Something Castiel had said several years ago passed through Dean's mind. You got what you asked for Dean. No Paradise. No Hell. Just more of the same. While something like that was great for the world, meant it would continue to spin on through the cosmos, it wasn't so great for people. People lived short, vibrant lives, never happy with too much consistency. And yet now Dean was supposed to be happy that Sam would live for hundreds of years or more?

He remembered the Mayan god they'd killed and his wife who had followed him through the ages. He remembered Chronos, the time god who had to fight tooth and nail to return to the time he wanted to be in, with the one person he wanted to be with. He remembered all the pagan gods and deities who went to such extremes to keep themselves alive, to keep whatever measly group of worshipers they could.

Nothing and no one he'd ever come across had seemed glad to live forever.

"You don't seem to get it, Cas, and that's exactly why I'm against this." He gestured towards Castiel and the bed where Sam had been. "You aren't human, you don't think like a human, you don't feel like a human. You. Aren't. Human. You won't mean to, but you'll hurt Sam again. You're an angel, not as dickish as the rest of them, but you're made for eternity. You watched our race be born, Cas! There's so many little things about humanity that you'll never understand because you aren't one."

And how he wanted to point out that at least with Ruby, she'd been a human once, even though she was evil and twisted and a manipulating bitch; but he held his tongue on that point because he couldn't bring himself to purposefully hurt Castiel. But the last thing Sam needed was another lover who was something so much more, so different, than him.

Castiel watched Dean quietly, his eyes narrowing slightly as Dean reiterated, again and again and again, that he wasn't human--could never be--and would never be able to make Sam happy. His trust in Dean was still strong and he valued his friend's opinion greatly, but each word wounded him deeply, cut him in ways that he hadn't known he could be cut. He was doing his best to understand, he was trying to make life better for all three of them, guiding and helping and trying to prove that he was worthy of something.

Castiel swallowed, surprised to find a sizable lump that obstructed his breathing and a weight on his chest that very nearly felt like it could crush the oxygen right out of his lungs. He'd never been affected like this before, with his last remaining hope for happiness dwindling further. He'd hoped that he would be the one that could bring the boys together. But now he could see that if he stayed, he'd be the reason they were torn apart.

A few seconds later he realized that something was wrong with his eyes. His vision was blurry and he lifted his hand to rub at them, willing the burning sensation to go away. His fingertips came back wet and warm, glistening in the hotel light, and Castiel was amazed as he realized it was tears stinging his eyes. He had never cried before. He hadn't known he could. After everything...

Castiel stared quietly at his fingertips for a moment, no longer looking at Dean. When he spoke next, his voice was hoarse and hushed. "I can become one," he breathed, lowering his head in defeat, his shoulders drooping further. "I can be human," he whispered again, brokenly.

Sam slipped his key into the door and paused when he heard his brother practically yelling inside, voice hard and scornful. Pushing the door open, he was greeted by a terrible scene; Castiel was crying, frustrated and hurt and confused, while Dean was saying the worst sort of things to him.

"Dean!" He exclaimed, grabbing his brother's shoulder and wheeling him around. "What the hell, man? What's going on here?" He'd left for half an hour to find World War III in his hotel room?

Doing his best to soothe whatever was wrong with Cas, he reconnected with the angel's mind and let all of his love and reassurance flow through to him; which left all his anger, rage, and possessive protective instincts for Dean. "Seriously, what is your major malfunction? Cas just barely lived yesterday, and you're already tearing him a new one?"

Castiel trembled under Dean's continued litany, not bothering to reach up and wipe any more of the tears away. He knew they would keep coming, there was no point in wiping them off. He had never felt sicker in his life. Even the knowledge of what he'd done before to his brethren, it was not the same as knowing that he would be the cause of the only two people he cared about finally falling apart. And he'd only meant to help. He'd only meant to make everything better, easier.

The angel didn't look up when Sam came in and recoiled from the bond as if it burned him, looking down in shame at his hands as he answered Sam quietly. "He doesn't approve of our union because I am not human. He believes I will hurt you, and he is probably correct." The angel tried once more to push himself up, almost staggering sideways at the sharp pain in his back.

"Please forgive me, Sam, I never intended any harm," he breathed before reaching for his still bloodied clothes and trying to pull them on slowly.

Sam turned wild eyes onto Castiel and then back at Dean, not sure which part of this he should deal with first. However, when he saw that Dean was about to explain he made a snap decision and punched his brother, hard. He watched Dean stagger back, falling onto the bed as he clutched at his bleeding nose.

"You," he pointed at Dean, "need to shut up for about five seconds." Turning to Castiel he tried to fight down the fear that whatever Dean had said had completely ruined the relationship he'd been building with Castiel over the past few months. "And you need to not listen to him." As he walked over to the angel he felt how his care was brushed aside, but he wasn't going to let his lover hurt himself in trying to leave. Placing a hand on Castiel's shoulder to try and get him to be still, he added, "I don't know what all has been said, but can we act like adults here for five minutes and talk this out?" Lord knows that ninety percent of all their problems came because no one ever said anything to anyone else.

"Oh, now you want to act like adults and talk?" Dean grumbled, clutching his nose in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.

Sam shot a dangerous glare at Dean. He loved his brother, but damn, Dean could be the biggest idiot at times. Then he looked back at Castiel and his expression soothed into concern, "Hey, is he the one who's with you? No. I am. You wanna maybe let me figure out if I approve of our union or not?"

The angel barely glanced up as he heard Sam punch Dean, but he stopped moving when one of those large, gentle hands closed over his shoulder. He ached to think that he might have already felt it for the last time in a less-than-platonic sense; but, for now, it was enough to make him pause and straighten. Everything still hurt so much, he just wanted his grace and his body to recover. It was driving him mad not being able to use his powers for anything. He looked at the blood staining Dean's face and furrowed his brows as he looked back and forth dejectedly between them.

Glancing back at Dean again, the angel lowered his head. "But he has valid points," Castiel said in confusion, looking almost hopeful that Sam still thought differently. "I am not human, there are some things I will never be able to understand as an angel," he whispered.

Castiel was wounded and vulnerable in every way possible, too frightened to stay, too frightened to leave. He felt frozen, stuck, not knowing where to go or what to do. Perhaps he could give up his grace to understand. He just wanted everything to be okay again.

"You think I didn't notice you weren't human, Cas? It's ok. I want you just the way you are, idiosyncrasies and all. You're not human? So, I'm not strictly human either," and with that he looked over to Dean, satisfied when he saw his brother cringe a little, whether in guilt or denial he wasn't sure. "Can you imagine what it would be like for me to be together with some poor human? With my powers? I don't have anywhere near enough control to guarantee that I wouldn't hurt them, but you? You can take it. And you give as good as you get."

His fingers gripped a little tighter, some of his desperation showing through. "Just... don't go anywhere just yet, ok? You're injured and you've been through Hell. So please, Cas, just lay back down and get some more rest." Letting out a deep breath, he looked over at his brother and added, "I think it's about time Dean and I have a talk. But just... don't go anywhere."

Dean stood up and went into the bathroom to shove tissue up his nose, hoping to stop the bleeding. When he heard Sam's suggestion he grunted and made his way for the door of the hotel, knowing that this would be one hell of a shouting match. But at least he was finally getting some truth out of Sam, even if it hadn't been intentional. He'd take it any way he could get it.

Perhaps it was Castiel's injuries that left him far too swayable, but some part of him took comfort in Sam's words. He wanted desperately to believe them, to believe that Sam truly didn't care or believe that Castiel would hurt him but another glance at Dean made his stomach lurch again. He let his eyes be drawn back to Sam, having to concede that yes, Sam being with a normal human could end up less than favorably in some ways.

Slowly he nodded, too exhausted to fight as Sam asked him to get some more rest and he achingly shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, sliding a hand to the wound on his back as he watched Dean stuff tissue up his nose angrily. He just wanted to heal their wounds and pretend that none of this had happened--that it hadn't been brought to his attention that he was probably not the right kind of person for Sam.

 

* * *

 

Dean wasted no time spinning on Sam as he exited the hotel room, his voice a quiet snarl. "What the hell are you thinking, Sammy? Are you thinking at all? A damn Angel? Please tell me you haven't screwed him yet," he snapped, already sure he knew the answer as he paced back and forth, licking his lips and pinching his nose. Not that he really wanted to imagine Sam and Cas doing the horizontal tango, but he did need to know everything Sam hadn't been forthcoming about.

Sam closed the door behind him, ready for Dean's outburst, and when it came he continued walking a little ways away until their argument wouldn't upset Castiel. Then he turned back to look at his brother. The punch had drained some of his anger but not nearly enough for him to not bite back, giving his brother no ground this time. "What was I thinking? I was thinking that I've damned and saved this world more times than I can count, that I just spent the past year in my head thinking I had a relationship with Amelia, and that Castiel understood what it was like to fuck everything up.”

“So, yes, I've screwed him. But before you go comparing him to Ruby or Lucifer or Madison, and all the other terrible choices I've made in my life, let me explain something to you." Putting a hand on his chest, he used the other one to motion around them. "I don't know if you've noticed, Dean, but I'm not all that human either. Even without Castiel's help I've left more pieces of myself in Hell than I know what to do with. Cas can accept that I'm not gentle and that I'm not perfect, that I might never be 'ok' again.  All he's ever done was try to help us. So excuse me for wanting to help him, to take away some of his pain."

"Have you ever, even once, thought about that? You've used Cas when it was convenient, condemned him when he messed up, and clung to him in Purgatory. I don't know what you've got going on with him because I honestly don't understand how you interact with others anymore, I don't. But Cas has died for us, and each time he's brought back he thinks it's a punishment. Do you know how much I understand that? I should still be in the Cage or dead or a million other things besides living here with you and the Impala and Cas."

"And besides, don't you dare get angry at me for this. You wanted me to go hunting with you, fine. You say that we aren't suited for a normal life, fine. Cas and I are pretty far the hell away from normal; and look, we're both still hunting with you. So tell me again:  What is your problem with this?" He finished, breathing heavily, arm pointing back towards the hotel room.

Dean faced down his moose of a brother with squared shoulders, the hand that wasn't attempting to stop the bleeding just shaking with the urge to return the fucking favor. He let Sam finish his rant and just about circled his brother like a shark, pacing back and forth as gravel crunched under his shoes. He wished he could grab the shotgun and pepper Sam with rock salt; maybe the burn would make his brother think twice. His lip curled when Sam admitted to having slept with the angel, and though Dean had had some wild experiences when he got super drunk, he still considered himself straight. It hadn't occurred to him that Sam might be anything but, but how did you slap a label on that? Gay? Seraphsexual? He had other things to worry about besides the issues of Castiel's gender identity.

"Don't say shit like that. Of course you're human. You're fucked up, yeah, we both are, but you're still human," he hissed in complete denial. "And he's always said he's just trying to help, but I frickin can't be the only one who remembers the stunt he pulled with Crowley. Who the hell's to say he won't do that again? He's fucking with your lifespan, Sammy. That regeneration thing? Did you know about that? You're going to live hundreds of years," he snapped, his voice softer. "How can that be okay to you?!"

"I don't mind having the guy around, he's pretty decent help on cases, but this is just going too far. This is so fucked up I don't even know where to start. You can't fucking trust him. And apparently I still can't trust either of you. When were you planning on letting me know? Or were you just going to send me a  invite to your gay-ass wedding?" He reached out, shoving Sam hard in the chest and hissing "How long has this been going on? What else haven't you been telling me? "

Sam stumbled back a step from the weight of Dean's shove. His eyes darkened as he looked down at Dean, feeling like nothing he was saying was making it through his brother's thick skull. "No, Dean, I'm not. At least, not in the ways that count. But fine, you want honesty? Here's some honesty for you. Cas and I have been together for months but I didn't want to say anything because you were already worried about him training me to use my powers, and I figured you could use some time getting used to having him around first. And I don't need you to be my Jiminy Cricket; if I make a mistake it's on my head, not yours."

"And for the really big reveal:  I spend every single moment of every single day denying who I am and what I want. I can smell every demon the moment I walk in the room; I can practically taste their blood on my tongue, and I haven't had any in years now. That shit never goes away. I'm like a heroin addict who keeps waiting for his next fix. And I know I've told you before, but I'm always angry you dip shit. I don't know if it's when you made a deal to bring me back, or my soul being tortured for almost two hundred years, or maybe watching you die over and over and over again, but I can't make it stop. I can't turn it off."

"So yeah, I'm fucking an angel and I didn't tell you about it because I knew how you'd react. Just. Like. This." Sam shoved Dean back, standing taller as his mannerisms changed subtly, motions becoming more regal and refined as his anger pulled on dim memories of how Lucifer had stared Dean down in his body. "I knew you'd freak out about how you aren't able to protect me and that I'm making the wrong decision again; how I'm 'so far off the reservation'. But Dean, I'm not, ok? I'm just a freak who’s found someone who knows everything about me and can accept it, all of it."

Dean had slept with Anna once, his hands weren't completely clean, but she had been human then. And he hadn't had a fucking relationship that had lasted for months with her. He stared as Sam admitted to being with Castiel for that long and wracked his memories for any sign, any hint, and found that he couldn't find any.  That or his anger was just not letting him see things for what they were. They'd been careful, he realized, intentionally and deliberately hiding it from him. Sam he was used to by now, but Cas? So much for making things up to him and proving he was trustworthy. Both of them were nothing but liars. It hurt deeply.

His eyes widened again as Sam admitted his cravings hadn't left, and that his anger at Dean hadn't settled in the least. He should have known from the punch Sam had laid on him. He wasn't exactly sure what to say to that, or to the fact that Sam reiterated he was fucking Castiel.

As Dean staggered back Sam straightened, drawing himself up to his full height, and as the elder Winchester recovered he found himself outmatched. "And what the fuck happens when everyone around you that you care about dies and the cycle just keeps repeating itself? You gonna be happy with him for hundreds of fucking years, Sammy? Are you that in love with him? What about me, huh?"

Sam took a deep breath and forced himself to calm some, but what Dean had to say next broke over him like a wave of ice water. In his rage he'd completely missed what Dean had asked him about earlier--if he'd known about the regeneration and what that would do to his aging. "Um... what..." No he hadn't been told about that. Castiel had told him that his regeneration would make him heal faster, make his powers easier to use because in effect draining his batteries dry wouldn't take as long to recharge from, but he'd never heard a word about not aging normally.

Turning his back on Dean he took a few steps away, mind racing at the implications of what that would mean. Suddenly Dean's anger, his vehement stance against the angel made some sense. "No..." He said, still turned away, thumb massaging his old scar in earnest as he tried to decide what that meant to him exactly, emotionally. "No, he never told me about that."

Spinning back around he looked at Dean, something broken inside of him that he normally hid away from his older brother. "But do you... can you really think I'd want to have to ever watch you die again? Dean, I... Damn it. Just... give me a second to think about this."

He wasn't saying that he needed a second to reevaluate his relationship with Castiel, but simply the fact that he was going to outlive anyone he might ever meet again. In that case, he would need Castiel all the more because he knew the pain of living alone.  Sam vividly remembered those six months when Gabriel's mind tricks had made Sam into a monster, swallowed whole by grief. And as far as he knew, now that his regeneration was started, there wasn't any way for him to turn it off. Unlike an angel he couldn't just shed his Grace and live a normal life after that. He couldn't get rid of his abilities.

"Is... is that why you're so angry? Did you think that I... what? Wanted to outlive you again; that I asked for this?" Once again, Sam realized just what a monster he was as nothing in his life was ever without the dark underbelly, the curse.

Dean crossed his arms, sucking on his cheeks as he watched some sort of understanding flickering over Sam's face. He almost laughed, his smile disbelieving as he looked down and shook his head. "So he gave you powers, turned ‘em on, is teaching you how to train them, and he never once mentioned that everything you love is going to die around you. Sounds trustworthy to me" he said sarcastically with a disingenuous chuckle, not willing to give Sam the time he needed to come to terms with whatever the fuck he was thinking now.

The elder brother reached up to scratch the back of his head and then settled both hands on his hips, trying to ignore how damned stupid he must look with tissue still crammed up his nose. Part of him wanted to believe that Sam hadn't known, that he hadn't asked for it, but another part laughed. Of course Sam knew. Of course he did. Even though Cas wasn't human, he had to have known it was important to make Sam aware of that... But then again, that was exactly the reason Dean knew the angel would never understand humans.

"Why not? You didn't give a rat's ass about me in Purgatory. Who's to say you didn't want to be sure you'd outlive me for good. Then, I guess, you could do all the shit I wouldn't let you. Hell, maybe that's the only damn reason you're still here. Let's spend some time with Dean because that poor fuck is only gonna be here for a fraction of my life." He rolled his eyes and huffed, looking up at the sky.

Sam was seeing red by the time Dean finished talking again, and he almost felt bad when he ducked in and landed a punch in his brother's stomach. "Don't you say that, Dean. I. Thought. You. Died." He watched his brother sink to his knees, doubled over in pain. "I literally broke when you left. I hit a woman and her dog with my car, and I was so broken over you being gone, that my powers turned on and I spent a year in my head thinking that I'd hit the dog; that I'd met the woman in the vet's office; that we fought at first but eventually hit it off; that we fell in love. But it was all a lie."

He crouched down and grabbed Dean's chin, pulling it up so he'd look at Sam. "Then one day I get a vision, a frickin' vision after all these years, and you know what it showed? You. It showed you at the cabin. And you know what I did? I dropped everything to come find you. That vision got me out of my head."

"Now... punch me if you need to, I deserve it. Get it out of your system because I am so sick of hearing you spew this shit about me not caring that you were in Purgatory. And, yeah, it's probably my fault that I didn't explain what had happened in the first place, but I just didn't want you to have to start worrying about your fucked up little brother."

The gravel dug into his kneecaps as Dean wrapped his arms around himself, groaning softly in pain as Sam hissed out an explanation that confused him. "The fuck are you are talking about? Amelia? What the fuck, Sam, if she wasn't real why the fuck did you go running to her when I had to get you away from Benny?" he snapped, panting hard through his nose, clenching his eyes closed as he tried to ride out the pain in his stomach. Goddam Sam had a punch like a gorilla.

Slowly, green eyes lifted as Sam pulled at his chin, eyes that were still narrow and watering, his lips parted as he squinted up at his brother and coughed slightly, then rose to his feet. "You know. Any other time I might. Hell, not gonna say I don't fucking want to. But you're going to have the rest of your fucking life to think about how you've been treating me when all I asked for was for you to be honest."

"That's all I keep fucking asking for, and you just lie and lie and lie until shit all comes crashing down again. I'm done. I'm just done. Too tired of it, Sammy. Getting too old for it." How many times had he expressed the same sentiment in the past? He held his hands up, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "You do whatever the fuck you wanna do. If you want to ride an angel for the rest of your life, you be my guest. Screw you, and screw Cas; you're both douchebags. Congratulations," he snapped, keeping his hands up, palms out as he took a few steps back. "Hope you're really fucking happy together."

"She was a real person, is, just... not in the way I thought of her. Like I said I hit her with my car and she was in the hospital in a coma for months; but I did meet her after she got out, to apologize."

But Sam's explanation was cut short when Dean got up from the ground and threw his hands in the air.

This wasn't what Sam had wanted at all. They had finally gotten to the point where they were finally acting like brothers again, every decision he made just messed it up worse. "Dean..." But what in the world did you say to that? He knew better than to point out all the ways in which Dean had hurt him, how Dean was no better in all of this. Hell, for everytime Sam tried to talk about things, there were three times when Dean had shut down any hope at telling the truth. After all, Sam still had no idea what had happened in Purgatory.

Clenching his jaw, he forced himself to stand there, to not move backwards or forwards but stay right where he was. If Dean wanted to leave, he wouldn't stop him--he didn't have that right. And maybe... Maybe he'd been right before, thinking that the only reason they were hunting together was because of habit. They had always been each other's weaknesses, and they'd tried this path so many times before that he knew the pain of leaving Dean and watching him leave like the back of his hand.

So he stared at Dean and decided all he could do at that moment was stand where he was and say his peace, speaking so quietly that he doubted Dean could hear him from there. "No, you're right... I have lied to you--keep lying to you. And I can't guarantee that I'll ever stop. You were always where my home was, even when I was running away from it as far and as fast as I could. But we're not the same people we were as kids, the same men we were before the Apocalypse or the Leviathans or any of this. Funny that I never lost my wish that you wouldn't have to know what was wrong with me, that you'd be proud..."

"...But monsters don't deserve that."

Dean kept his hands up, backing up a few paces and shaking his head. "You should have frickin thought about that before now, Sammy. Sure. I would have been pissed then, too, but at least I wouldn't have had to find out this way. I freaking tried. I did the best I could. I even encouraged you to train. And neither of you thought once about telling me that you were banging each other. Or that you were gonna stay young while I aged, or that you can fucking talk to each other in your minds." He flitted a hand at his own temples for emphasis and licked his lips, pulling the tissue out of his nose and dropping it on the ground.

"You know, normally I would say something like ‘Even if you are a monster, you're still my brother’. But I don't think you are anymore and you've done nothing to make me proud. I can't lie to you and say that I am. You're not a fucking monster, Sammy, but you still don't deserve it," The elder brother said softly, continuing to back away and running his hand through his hair.

"I'm going for a drive. Dunno when I'll be back," he muttered before turning away and stuffing his hands in his pockets, moving towards the Impala with steps that sent rocks skittering.

Sam watched Dean get into the Impala and drive away, his feet seemingly cemented to the ground. He remained standing there for a long, long time after the car left the parking lot of the motel and pulled off onto the road; stood there until the storm clouds overhead broke and the rains started. And then he continued to stand there as the rain drenched him completely through.

It was almost funny because he couldn't blame Dean for a single thing he'd said at the end. It was all true. And what was worse was that if Dean left, never came back, he would be completely alone while Sam would still have Castiel. Except knowing Castiel, he would feel guilty for breaking the brothers apart and he would go away to pay more penance and Sam would be right back where he'd been a year ago.

Eventually, he shook his head and turned towards the lights of the city, hoping that a walk would clear his head. Somehow, he doubted it would.

He doubted it would make a difference even if it did.


	11. Slave to the Addiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both of the boys fall back on old comforts, but those comforts aren't as helpful as they hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is pretty much the halfway point. 
> 
> And just a quick note, I'll be uploading two chapters next week, one on Monday and then the usual on Friday. This is in part due to the fact that we're getting to some huge plot arc movement and in part because I need to fit in a few extra chapters here and there so I can get it all uploaded before I'm out of the country for the summer.

It was a month later and Castiel was holed up with Sam in a hotel, chinese food scattered across the bed in front of them. They hadn't left the hotel in a few days and though Castiel was worried about Sam, he was was also glad to simply be close to his lover. Dean had left a month ago and had never called again, except for one time to tell them he wasn't coming back. The healing angel had felt incredibly guilty ever since. He believed that he was to blame, completely, and though he let Sam say otherwise, he was almost certain that Sam believed it was his fault too.

The younger Winchester had been having a hard time coping and sometimes his temper got the best of him, but he always ended up apologizing to Castiel for the small outbursts and the angel could not begrudge his lover for them. He found that reassuring Sam with a kiss was easy enough and profitable for them both. They had continued their training and Sam was still getting better all the time, much to Castiel's pride.

With Castiel's powers restored and working again, they rarely wanted for anything. They could simply zip to any hotel in the world, into an empty room for a rest. They could eat anything they wanted. The sky was the limit and Castiel tried to do his best to bring a smile back to Sam's face. They were in a luxurious suite this night, something that would have cost several thousand dollars a night if they were paying; the bed was even bigger than a normal king sized bed, and the flat screen television was nearly sixty-five inches.  Then Sam’s phone rang.

Castiel was lying on his stomach, watching the television in a pair of boxers and a tank top. He'd taken well to being able to lounge around freely with his lover and had managed to procure a few items of clothing that were much more comfortable than a full suit and a trenchcoat.

The angel glanced at Sam over his shoulder and gave him a slight smile, wondering if he would answer it, not aware that the sounds of Dean with a woman would be the things he heard when it was answered.

When Sam answered the phone there was a brief pause before the sounds began filtering through from the other end. At first he had turned to Cas and pointed at the phone with confusion, holding it slightly away from his ear as a woman made a very loud, very enticing yell, obviously in the middle of sex. So he figured that Dean had lost his phone and someone had decided to play a prank with his phone. He was about to hang up when a second voice joined in, calling out encouragements for the woman's, apparently, phenomenal performance.

Dean had dialed his number in the middle of sex.

And Sam could only hope it was on accident.

There was that moment of sick fascination before the thought really sank in as Sam just looked at Cas and numbly listened to the audio coming from his phone. But then the moment was broken and suddenly the phone was a hot potato in his hands as he fumbled with it, trying to end the call and keep some of his decency in place. When he finally got a hold of it for long enough to hit the End Call button, he was greeted with the woman's voice calling out Dean's name in earnest and the sound of the headboard knocking against the wall.

Great. Add that to the list of mental images and sounds that he would never get rid of.

"Well... that was... yeah." Sam tried awkwardly to make the event less embarrassing. Surprisingly it was a whole lot easier than he had anticipated as his ever present anger bubbled up from beneath the surface. Clenching the phone in his hand he looked over at Cas and shook his head. "Not once; not once does he call, say he's found a job; let us know through the grapevine that he's alive... But this? He butt dials me somehow in the middle of sex?" He asked incredulously, both enraged and amazed at the sheer lengths to which his life must be a never ending tragic comedy for God to watch.

The angel had part of an egg roll in his mouth and was chewing thoughtfully, pausing to stare at the phone as he'd heard the woman's voice. Swallowing slowly, he blinked, his expression surprised as Dean's voice joined the woman's, blue eyes lifting up to Sam in complete surprise. Once he would have asked what was wrong with the two on the other end, but now, he'd had enough of his own practice to recognize the sounds as intimate.  Well, at least Dean was alive.

He shifted up on his knees and turned around to face Sam, simply watching his as he was watched, both of them listening to the elder Winchester and his current sexual partner clearly enjoying themselves. The angel's eyebrows lifted slightly as he tipped his head at the phone and then looked back up at Sam. It was all too easy to see the anger that began flashing in his hunter's eyes as he digested what had just happened. The angel crawled forward on his hands and knees, shifting to pull Sam's phone from his hand and lying it gently on the table.

Pressing his nose into the curve of Sam's neck, the angel let his wings flutter as he laid what he'd hoped was a soothing kiss on the mortal's neck and then pressed his temple to Sam's shoulder. "I'm not certain what butt dialing is, but perhaps this is Dean's way of letting us know he is alive and well?" He asked softly, looking up at his lover.

"At least he seems to be enjoying himself," he murmured, trying to find the silver lining. "Perhaps he has found a woman to share his life with?" He knew that was unlikely but it didn't stop him from being hopeful.

"You're far more positive than I could ever hope to be..." Sam said as he pulled Castiel closer to him, reaching out with one hand which simply passed through one of those glorious wings. "Butt dialing means that he hit his phone, generally when it's in a pocket, and it dialed me by accident." Hopefully the explanation would help Castiel understand why he was so angry over the unintentional call.

Leaning forward he growled and kissed the angel's exposed neck, so very glad that Cas never begrudged Sam using him as a distraction. The last thing he needed today was to think about Dean and the empty hole in his chest that continually reminded him that he was a complete failure as a human being. If Dean never got in touch with him again, he couldn't say that he deserved any better. He didn't deserve Castiel, most of all.

And as his anger and hopelessness mounted, he found himself clinging to Castiel, with his only thought being to lose himself in his lover. "How about you help me get that woman's screams out of my head? Hmmm?" He whispered seductively, needing to get all of it out of his memory. Flipping them both over, he slowly lowered Castiel against the bed. "What do you say, angel?"

Castiel nodded slightly and though Sam's physical hand passed through the spiritual wings, the bit of grace in Sam did drag slightly along the feathers making the angel shiver. It was as close as they could get to allowing Sam to touch his true-form, without offering him more grace of course. He would have except that he was still hurt by Dean's accusations that he would only end up hurting his lover by allowing him to live longer. He hadn't been able to tear himself away from Sam though, unable to separate himself from his lover; to let him live a life without Castiel.

The past month had been one of the best times of his life--well, existence--even through all the worry and pain and fear. It was just so amazing that Sam loved him that he still could scarcely believe it. Castiel closed his eyes, murmuring as his lover's lips found his neck and he tipped his head back. "I think I understand," he breathed, closing his eyes. "He called you by mistake." Spreading his fingers over Sam's broad chest, he purred in his throat quietly. "That does not mean that he is not all right." Truthfully, the angel was glad to know that Dean was all right and was able to do things that made him happy.

Castiel lifted a leg as Sam slid over top of him, hooking it over his lover's hip and using it to draw Sam closer, always willing to be anything that Sam needed. He arched his back as he kissed down Sam's cheek and jaw and neck, shivering as he gripped at Sam's upper arms, fingers tight for a moment.  

"I say that I will do my best," Castiel murmured back, actually flirting, blue eyes kind and even a little coy as he slid his hands to Sam's lower back and pulled his hunter down against him, craning up to kiss him on the lips.

Sam drew in a small breath as he moved with Castiel's hands, laying down flush with his angel. "If you're doing your best, then we might not be leaving here for a few days."

Over the past month, Sam had tried so hard to hold in the tumult inside him; and for the most part he'd been able to keep it to a small outburst here or there; a longer than normal run, rougher sex. Castiel permitted it all, never complaining, rebuking him only when he started to let the rage and hurt consume him. Today, with that phone call, he was already straining to hold onto himself, feeling his anger like a great beast inside him, gnashing teeth and straining at its chain.

And Castiel never once complained.

So he took claim of Castiel's mouth, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, the coppery tang so familiar even if it didn't have the acrid aftertaste of demon's blood or the slightly sweet taste of his own. He sucked at the wound as his hands found Castiel's shoulders and his thumbs dug into their hollows, fingers spread wide and gripping tight.

"I cannot say that I find anything disagreeable with that," Castiel said softly, offering another smile as he gripped Sam just a little harder than a normal human could handle, knowing that his Sam would have no problem with it. He squeezed his lover's hips with his thighs and continued to kiss him, hoping to distract the hunter from the pain he felt after his brother had left. Castiel knew Sam still had so much anger in him and he blamed himself for not telling the truth, for not realizing that he should have told Sam about his life-span.

Any pain Sam felt was his fault and he was more than willing to share the burden of it when Sam grew rougher during their trysts, or overworked himself when they were training. He was there to take care of Sam, there to see him through everything. He wouldn't leave and he would endure because he wanted to. Rougher sex wasn't nearly as bad as it sounded and the angel found that he actually quite enjoyed it.

So when Sam's teeth sank deep into his lip, the pain was almost nothing to the angel as he dragged himself closer to his lover, shivering as the taste of his own blood flooded his mouth, his grace already beginning to crackle and his with energy. He moaned as Sam's hands pressed his shoulders back down, fingers flexing as he tried to roll them both over, attempting to straddle the larger hunter's waist.

As Sam sucked on Castiel's lip, drinking in the small trickle of blood that flowed from it, something switched on inside of him. The blood filled the aching hunger that he always carried inside of him, making demon blood seem like a pale imitation. He needed more.

Releasing Castiel's mouth, he moved down to the angel's shoulder and bit down on his deltoid. At first it was passable for just a love bite, as he eased the pressure and kissed at the swiftly reddening skin. Then he bit down much harder as he helped Castiel flip them over, using the motion to distract from the pain. One of his hands let go of his death grip on Castiel's shoulders so he could start pulling at the hem of the angel's shirt. He needed more skin available, now.

As more blood filled his mouth, its heady bouquet driving him wild, he groaned as he had to let go to get the shirt off. There was the smallest voice of reason in the back of his head that warned him that he shouldn't be drinking from the angel--that this was an even worse perversion than drinking from the demons; some small part of him feeling that he could taint Castiel worse with this, when they both knew they were equally fallen. So he forced himself to stay laying down, back to the bed to keep himself from reaching for the lazy beads of blood still appearing on his lover's flesh, and moved his hands to Castiel's hips. Thumbs digging into their favorite niche, he roughly shoved Castiel back to a more comfortable position on him.

Shoving a hand through the human's long brown locks and tangling a fist in them hungrily, Castiel let Sam kiss him and returned the kiss all too willingly, the skin of his lip healing quickly and flawlessly. Sam hadn't broken skin before, but it was of no great importance to the angel; he knew he was in no danger and the fact that his blood may be just as addicting as a demon's never even crossed his mind. The angel moaned softly as Sam nipped at first, eyelids flickering as human teeth bit at muscle and skin, and then gasped roughly as the teeth broke skin and sent blood trickling down his shoulder.

The angel straddled his hunter, panting as he helped Sam wriggle him out of the surprisingly comfortable shirt, Castiel leaned low to press them both chest to chest once more. He grunted as he was shoved back roughly and then rolled his hips in a manner entirely unbecoming of a creature whose origin was Heaven, his actions almost lewd as he leaned low again, grabbing Sam's wrists and pinning them to the bed with another sensual roll of his hips. He had to use some of his angelic strength to keep Sam down, but he knew Sam didn't mind.

He leaned down to breath along the shell of Sam's ear and then kissed him again, hard, intending to tease Sam until he was practically begging. That would be sure to get the woman off Sam's mind. Blood continued to drip from the wound on his shoulder, at least until it was healed, and the angel slid his hands up Sam's grace-pinned arms, over his shoulders, and down his chest before sliding them under the edge of Sam's shirt, more than ready to release the man should he say anything at all to indicate discomfort.

Sam snapped playfully at Castiel as his hands were pulled over his head, his teeth aching to sink into flesh again. But no, that wasn't right. A buzz began in the back of his skull along with a quiet ringing in his ears and his entire world narrowed to the drops of blood falling from Castiel's shoulder. He was panting, writhing under the angel in agony that any of the precious ambrosia was being wasted.

When the smell subsided with the healing of the wound, Sam found he could think again some and his eyes opened wide as the angel moved against him, a deep moan catching in his throat. Then Castiel was at his mouth and his hands were everywhere at once and Sam was nearly undone. "You... are so... very... irresistible," he ground out between short pants, trying to keep himself under some control.

Finally he couldn't take it and he blasted his mental connection with his need for the angel to momentarily get the upper hand and reverse their positions again, mouth instantly finding his mark on Castiel, sucking hard. As he licked the bruise, he could almost taste the blood through the skin, hear it humming through the veins. But he closed his eyes and placed gentle kisses over the skin of Castiel's chest, making his way for the man's nipple.

Castiel smirked softly as his lover squirmed, not realizing that much of his wriggling was due to the fact that his blood was dripping freely down his arm. He simply believed he was doing a good job of helping Sam forget like he'd been asked to; he continued to assault his human with his mouth, kissing, suckling, nipping and even scratching with his nails at times as he continued to grind his hips down into Sam's.  

He took his time feeling Sam up, fingers ghosting and touching and teasing as the Winchester groaned and wiggled beneath him and he could hear his own breath whooshing hard from his nose as his lover groaned at him. "Good. If you claimed to love me, and found me resistible, I might be worried," he chuckled into the edge of Sam's lips, having fun with his few moments of control.

It didn't last very long at all; Castiel was momentarily disabled by a blast of Sam's need for him and he moaned softly, fanning his wings as Sam rolled them again; lying the angel on his back once more, both hands sliding up to tangle in Sam's hair as he closed his eyes and tipped his head back. His vessel's blood was on fire, his hands were trembling, his heart beating wildly and he allowed his lover free reign, looking at Sam as he slid lower, hands growing tighter in Sam's hair as his lips parted encouragingly.

Had someone told Castiel six months ago that he would be lovers with Sam Winchester today, no force of Heaven or Earth could have made the angel believe it. But here they were, Sam more dear to him than his own grace, and Castiel would do everything in his power to keep Sam happy.

 

* * *

 

After Sam's first taste of Castiel's blood, he found himself driven by a new obsession day and night. In the depths of his mind and soul he remembered the sensation, the overpowering, all consuming need for the poison of his choice and the heady rush from each hit weakened his resolve to fight temptation. Most days he could resist, he just began placing more kisses to Castiel's hair instead of his skin, trying to remove the temptation as much as he could, especially when in his more amorous thralls.

But finding reasons to resist an addiction is so very hard and as the weeks passed, Sam found himself losing control around Castiel. Cas' mouth was bleeding from most of their kisses after a month, and if it wasn't for the angel's regeneration, his body would have been peppered with bites in various stages of healing.

Castiel was the worst temptation Sam had ever faced and without Dean's presence, without Castiel telling him no, he found that the angel was a temptation that he only ever wanted to give into. Just barely two months after Dean had left them, Sam found himself in a tailspin and falling fast.

That morning Castiel had insisted they train his powers, worried that perhaps the growing beastliness in Sam was coming from a buildup of his powers. These days Sam needed no real instruction besides form and finesse, his control over his powers as automatic as breathing. As he gave himself a telekinetic push to dodge a blast from Castiel, he smirked and snapped his fingers, freezing Castiel's feet into the stream he was standing in. Moving far too fast for a human, he slammed his forearm over Castiel's throat, pushing him back and pinning him to a tree. "Well?" He asked with a strange glow deep inside his eyes.

Castiel had been so eager to please in the beginning; with Dean's absence the angel was the only one left to take care of Sam and he had to make sure at least one of the boys wanted for nothing. So he'd given and given everything he could, glad to do it, hoping it would help in someway. But Sam's kisses began coming with consequences and soon when they lay together, Castiel did begin to notice the frequency of bites increasing. It had begun to dawn on him that all was not right and that Sam may be doing more than taking out his aggression.

He didn't want to think about it or believe it, didn't want to think that Sam's will was dissolving and he was still playing such a big part in it... So the angel did something stupid and, at first, attempted to ignore it, trying to get Sam to train so long he was too exhausted for sex. But Castiel couldn't help but see that Sam's power was growing, as was the control over them. He would have been proud if he didn't suspect what it was from. When they had sex, one of the easiest excuses for Sam to use to bite, Castiel often tried to keep it gentle and had even avoided sex for almost the past week.

This day he had insisted on training. It had finally come to a point he could not ignore, and while he loved Sam, he couldn't let him drug himself on angel blood any more than demon. He intended to tire Sam before breaching the subject but instead found himself almost matched by his lover. When his feet were frozen into the stream he looked down in surprise before looking back at Sam just in time to be knocked back against a tree with a cough. They were no strangers to rough training; with their powers of regeneration, it was easy for them to take the hits and continue for long, long periods of time.

He panted as he lifted his hand to Sam's arm, gripping his wrist as he offered a slight smile. "I... good... You're doing well, Sam," he breathed, trying to straighten up, trying to ignore the less than comforting look he was on the receiving end of.

"Thanks, Cas," Sam said, smiling a little too wide, a little too hungrily. He felt good, really good; stronger and faster than any of their other sparrings. And the source of all that glorious added power was right in front of him, just sitting there for the taking. But at the same time, this was Castiel, his lover and friend. You didn't just start sucking on your friends for their blood like caprisuns.

However, it was a siren song, a treasure trove under the thinnest membrane imaginable.

"Do you have any idea... how good you smell right now?" He asked, pulling closer to the angel's neck and sniffing lightly. It was certainly true that Castiel's natural smell was enticing, a clean sort of smell all his own, like water in a forest or autumn fires. Castiel smelled like elements, lightning and thunder and rain and earth. There was almost nothing about him that was human besides his vessel's appearance.

Sam tried a little, a very little, to not make today about the blood, pulling himself away ever so slightly. He could do this, he could manage his addiction. It was times like this that he missed Ruby the most for while she had been manipulating him, she had never denied him the blood; encouraged it, understood the need and embraced it. He sincerely doubted that Castiel would do the same once he noticed what Sam was doing.

Castiel gave Sam only a half smile, unable to get the wolfish grin from haunting his memory, leaning back against the tree quietly as he used his grace to thaw the ice still clinging to his clothes. He examined Sam carefully and knew that it was his fault. He hadn't been paying attention. He'd been so worried about letting Sam do what he needed to that he hadn't noticed his lover destroying himself in another way. He certainly knew now.

Lifting a hand between them and putting his fingertips to his lover's chest, Castiel pressed Sam back, just a few feet, and searched his eyes sadly. "I have been growing concerned about that, Sam." he murmured, looking down at his feet for a moment.

"I think you've been biting me to drink and I must stop it, if you have. Do you feel strange when you drink it? I love you, but you cannot allow addiction to control you, and I cannot let you... do what you've been doing. "  It was really too bad; he really enjoyed it it, but he needed to keep Sam healthy and this was essentiel.  "But I will help you stop."

"Ah..." Sam said simply, his expression going carefully neutral. "Noticed that, did you?" The last thing he wanted was Castiel to help him stop, to stop him at all. It wasn't that he didn't want to respect Castiel's wishes, or that he didn't value his lover, but the blood called to him far stronger than love or devotion or fealty. And Sam had never done well with addictions.

"But, let's just talk hypothetically for a minute here," he said, words curling like smoke from his lips, voice honeyed and all too dangerous. "Why do you think it's a bad thing? Hmmm? I'm not letting anything control me."

I'm completely in control of it. I've got it under control, Dean. I can stop drinking it at any time. I'M HELPING PEOPLE, DEAN! SAVING LIVES!

Stroking the side of Castiel's face, Sam forced himself to pull away slightly so that his mouth was no longer inches from the angel's neck. "And how would you go about helping me stop? Hmmm?"

Castiel furrowed his brows, having expected a denial, if anything, but none came and Sam admitted it far too easily. He could tell that Sam wasn't pleased he'd finally caught on, either. He reached up to cup his lover's jaw gently, searching his eyes as he spoke, feeling less and less capable each moment.

"It is controlling you, whether you think it or not. You've relapsed on something more powerful than demon's blood.," he whispered, reaching out to brush Sam' hair back from his face and tucking it behind his ear. "You're going to grow too dependant on it to function, Sam, and I honestly do not want to spend hundreds of years having to satisfy your addiction. It's dangerous for both of us. Your body is not made to handle so much grace. It will only make you live longer," he breathed softly.

"You won't be able to think, to concentrate, or feel," he continued before taking a deep breath. "Let me help you. You've already been three days without. Another week and it will be out of your system," he promised.

"So there's Grace in your blood?" That certainly explained some of the questions Sam had. "But it seems to me that you're doubting me, just like Dean did, thinking you have to save me--from myself, from fate, from everything. But I can take care of myself, Cas."

There was the smallest voice in the back of his head that was agreeing with the angel, screaming that everything pouring out of his mouth was simply manipulations to make Castiel willingly continue his blood donations. That tiny voice was swiftly drowned out by the melodious pumping of Castiel's heart, the blood pulsing under his fingertips.

"And you don't want to spend hundreds of years having to satisfy me? Funny, you're the reason I'm going to live longer, but now you don't want to spend hundreds of years together? What does that mean? You were just doing this as an experiment?  A trial at sex in a vessel? Well, I guess Dean was right; he said I shouldn't trust you..." Inwardly his addiction smiled and purred against the walls of its cage, loving the fact that the main door was wide open.

It would only wait a little while longer before it would be roaring for more, more, more...

"Of course there is," Castiel said, furrowing his brows once more and looking down. "I'm not... doubting you, Sam. I just..." He wasn't exactly sure what to say. Sam wouldn't be able to take care of himself if he was addicted to Castiel's blood. Or any blood. But that didn't make the angel feel any less guilty and he lowered his head and eyes, biting his bottom lip.  The next words out of Sam's mouth were even more hurtful and Castiel looked up, steeling his jaw.

"I never said that" he snapped out in a moment of hurt. "You're twisting my words. I want to stay with you as long as you'll let me, but I don't... I don't want this to be a condition of our being together. " He looked at Sam pleadingly, furrowing his brows. How could Sam possibly think such things, after everything? The angel looked almost panicked.

"I want to be with you, Sam.  Not your addiction," he whispered.

“We never did talk about what we are, what conditions you want to have; so why don't we talk about that now? Because you know what I want? I just want someone who knows about my dark-side and accepts it. But it sounds like you want to make a problem out of a little blood letting." Sam moved close, his entire body and presence dominating Castiel.

It was entirely irrational, but he was beginning to get angry seeing how much Castiel was drawing away from him. Did Cas... did he think Sam would hurt him? His veins were screaming for a new fix, the Grace inside him a magnetic pull to the angel.

"I do know about it, I do accept that you have had troubles in your past; but does that mean I must bow to your wishes and let you take my blood whenever you please?" Castiel asked, leaning back against the tree. "I need to know that you are with me because you want to be with me, not because you need my blood." He set a hand on Sam's chest, straightening his arm and licking his bottom lip.

Sam was beginning to crowd him and the angel breathed a little more heavily, staring up into hungry hazel eyes.

"I am your... lover... Not... not your..." Damn it, what did human's call--oh yes. "Not your drug, Sam," he finished, lifting his chin. "Please, I know you can understand why this is bad for you."

"Never said you were my drug. Your words, not mine." Sam laced fingers through Castiel's hair, leaning in to place a chaste kiss against his forehead. Then his mind went blank as the blood was screaming at him and his resolve crumbled. Throwing all the Grace he had in him at Castiel, he did his best to temporarily immobilize the angel. A knife flashed as Sam cut open Castiel's arm, mouth enveloping the wound with a primal need.

His eyes glowed again as fresh Grace and blood flowed down his throat, and he looked up at Castiel with pure hunger. The drive for blood was strong enough on its own, but he had already built an association between the blood and sex and his body was suddenly aroused like Pavlov's dog. One hand holding onto the angel's wrist, the other in his hair, Sam ground against Castiel, smiling darkly against the angel's skin.

Castiel closed his eyes as Sam leaned forward, sighing as he allowed his lover to kiss him. Just as he was about to kiss his hunter back, he found himself rooted to the spot with power born of stolen Grace. He cried out as a knife from who knew where struck him in the arm, sending a burning sliver down the nerves as his skin split open. He froze then, locked up like a prey animal that hoped the predator wouldn’t see it and his chest rose and felt as he stared in shocked silence at Sam.

Had it already gotten so bad? The sense of failure was almost overwhelming, crushing the angel's hope and leaving him unable to do much for several more seconds even as he stared down at Sam in confusion and pain. His brows furrowed and he gave a small shudder before forcefully blasting his lover back. Spreading his wings, he flapped once and was gone in a flutter, already beginning to dismantle their mental bond.

There was nothing else he could do right that second but distance himself from the situation to figure out a course of action.

Sam fell hard into the stream, water turning to chunks of ice around him but he didn't notice. Honestly he barely noticed that Castiel had left at all over the Grace and angel blood coursing through him. For a long while he sat in the water, arms out behind him to keep him up, simply riding the high. He'd drank far more blood from the open wound than he'd ever done before and, combined with Castiel's blast, he was trapped in his mind experiencing emotions and feelings, sounds and colours that were impossible for normal humans to understand.

Several hours later he came to himself, the hunger temporarily sated, and he realized what he'd done. The hurt and fear in Castiel's eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life, he had no doubt. Once again he'd kept secrets and pushed away the only person left who cared about him.

He wasn't a monster because of Azazel's blood in him or because he was Lucifer's vessel.

He was a monster because he continually put himself first and loved others for what they gave him.

Once he would have blamed it all on Jessica's death, that part of his heart died with her. But now? Now he was certain it was a flaw sewn into his very essence, a darkness that he'd never learned how to fight.

 

* * *

 

"Of all the news you could have possibly brought me," Pharzuph purred into the phone, "that could be the best of all. No, no, you'll be rewarded. Mammon will see to that. Yes, thank you again for letting me know." Ending the call with an angry press of her button she tossed the device onto her bed with such force that it bounced right off and the screen shattered against the night stand.

Whirling around, she looked at her fellow Fallen, Forcas, and rolled her eyes. "Three weeks! It took them three weeks to find out that the little angel flew the coop!"

Forcas crossed his arms and waved a hand at her to calm down. "Now, now, Pharz, you can't let these sorts of things anger you so. Our plans are all flexible enough to work around the incompetency of demons. You know that. If you look on the positive side of things, this means we can finally put the end into motion."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Pharzuph replied sarcastically, twining a finger through one of her stray locks of hair. Today she looked like the ancient Oracle of Delphi, complete with pleated and braided hair pulled back into an ornate bun and the flowing gossamer robes of spider's silk.

However, if she was finally going to go hunting, she'd need to look a little more enticing for her prey. Her sculpted Greek features began to soften while her jaw became more prominent, the slightly rectangular face that was so popular with men these days. Her eyelashes grew fuller and darker, framing her honey gold eyes beautifully. Then her long tresses of hair bleached to an ash blonde with all sorts of golden and tawny highlights, falling about her shoulders in loose curls.

"What do you think, Forcas? Should this capture his little hunter heart?" She asked, batting her eyelashes and leaning forward, pressing her arms together to emphasize her now ample cleavage.

"If you were any more his type, you'd be in his dreams."

"Well, don't wait up for me then." Waving with only her fingers, she suddenly vanished from the room, the whisper of her wings barely distinguishable in the silence.

 

* * *

 

Dean sat at the quiet bar, sighing as he sipped at a beer. He'd already had a few shots, but still wasn't feeling them. The music in this place was atrocious; but he hadn't come here for music. He'd come to get drunk, as he so often did these days. He'd left his brother and that damn angel in the dust months ago and was still trying to get the pair out of his mind. He'd fucking done the best he could, dammit, and they couldn't even show him the same courtesy? Neither had called, or even tried to, from what he'd seen so he simply carried on alone, trying hard to fulfill his debt to Crowley even if he had nothing to show for it.

No Cas, no brother, nothing but an empty fucking passenger's seat and a fucking hangover nearly every morning.

Taking another sip of his beer, the elder Winchester leaned back and let his eyes flicker over the people slowly, sighing again when there were none of any particular interest to him. He knew he might as well go back to the hotel but something that ached deep within him knew the only thing that waited for him there was loneliness. There was no one to joke with, no one to laugh with.

No, they were probably glad he was gone so they could actually fuck each other instead of pretending that the other didn't exist around him.

Gritting his teeth Dean held his fingers up and motioned for another shot of whiskey.

"I'll have what he's having," Pharzuph said as she slid onto the stool next to Dean, leaning forward on the bar so her low cut shirt fell open a bit. Looking over her shoulder at him, she held out a hand to shake. When he gripped it tight and shook back, she smirked slightly. "Name's Lauren. Any chance I could learn yours? You seem to be the only one in here who isn't old enough to be my father or skeezy enough to be my ex-boyfriend." Her tone was light and flirtatious, neither too strong nor too submissive.

Lately she had been singularly focused on their plans to raise Lucifer, so she wanted to have a little fun with the hunter before reeling him in; and so she decided to not use her pheromones unless absolutely necessary. She had a feeling she wouldn't need them around Dean.

"And, forgive me for being too forward, but you look like you could use some company tonight. Bad break up?" Then she bit her knuckle, blood red lips pouting around it, and gave him a slightly abashed look. "I'm sorry, you're... you're not gay, are you? I didn't get that vibe, but some guys get so angry when I come over and they just broke it off with their boyfriends."

Dean blinked as a woman, a gorgeous woman, seemingly appeared out of nowhere and sat next to him. He couldn't help but glance at her tits and then quickly lifted his eyes to hers as she spoke, raising his brows slightly. Setting his beer down and straightening his back a little to puff out his chest just a bit, he smiled and gave a nod. "Sure thing, Lauren. Name's Dean," he answered in a friendly tone, taking her hand and giving it a shake as she offered.

"As it happens, I think I could use a little company tonight," he said with a smile, giving her another once over, though his smile faded when she asked about a breakup and if he was gay. That was almost too much.

"Ahhh... Nope. Sorry to disappoint, I'm not gay and haven't been attached for several years,” he said softly, furrowing his brows as he picked up his shot and downed it. He tried hard not to think about his brother and that gay angel; but it was hard and the whiskey still wasn't taking the edge off. Giving a hiss as he set the glass down, he looked her over yet again.

"Lost my brother a few months ago, actually, but I'm sure a pretty thing like you doesn't wanna hear about that." He turned his stool to face her. "What brings you here?"

"Ah, well, I'm sorry to hear about your brother, but would you hold it against me that I'm ecstatic that you aren't attached to anyone?" She said with a coy smile, turning back towards the bar as the barkeep slid her over shot of whiskey. "Bottoms up." With a mischievous grin, she downed the shot and slammed the glass down, letting out a breath to ease the burn.

Forefinger idly circling around the edge of the glass she frowned a moment in contemplation of the drink. "Not bad, although I'm still partial to Fireball. Cinnamon just complements the whiskey so well." Rolling her head over to look at Dean, she gave him a wink and added, "Don't you agree?"

Now she was all for playing easy and loose, and certainly forward and liberated, but there was a fine line that she hated having to cross into vapid or ditzy. She was a being older than the Earth, far older even than her brother Castiel, and it was so very demeaning of human culture to think that a woman would ever have so little on her mind. So she was quite appreciative that from the subtle cues she'd picked up while watching what sort of women the hunter had bedded were rarely of the brain dead variety.

"Now, we could see who can drink the other under the table... Or we could find a dark corner where I could get to know you a little more... intimately."

Dean smirked slightly. "Or gay, right?" he chuckled, taking another moment to glance her over. When she took the shot like a pro, his expression was enough to show he was impressed and he nodded approvingly at her and raised his brows at the barkeep.  Leaning on his elbow for a moment to watch her, he chuckled before motioning at the barkeep to bring her a fireball, giving a short laugh.

"Lauren, I gotta be honest with you. You keep smiling at me like that and I'm going to agree with everything you ask," he flirted heavily, chuckling. He knew enough to know when he was being checked out, and this one looked as if she were ready to case a joint for robbery. He took another sip of beer as the barkeep brought her the fireball and then blinked as she got right down to business.

"I could do either," he said with a shrug. "But I have to say right now, choice B is mighty tempting," he purred with every bit of charm in his body.

"Yes, especially glad you aren't gay. All the better for me." Pharzuph flashed a dazzling smile and nodded at the barkeep as a Fireball came her way. "Oh my, something tells me we are going to have a great deal of fun getting to know each other." Picking up her new shot, she closed her eyes and smiled appreciatively as she smelled the whiskey.

If there was one thing she absolutely loved about humans, it was that they invented alcohol. And so many wonderful flavors so that just about anyone could overcome their inhibitions and join in on her fun.

"Well, sadly this bar isn't quite equipped for fumbling in dark corners, but... I've got a room not far from here. And my hotel has a pool and a hot tub." Her lips curled back, eyes dancing in the low light of the bar. "In case you enjoy swimming and soaking at all."

Dean chuckled and finished off his drink. As far as he was concerned it was already in the bag. "You know, I was just thinking the same thing. What a coincidence," he responded as he set a few bills on the table, enough to pay for her drinks and a tip.

"Well, if you're looking for fumbling... You've got the wrong guy. If you'd rather have someone that knows what he's doing, you've got the right one," he murmured, before glancing up at her with a mischievous grin.

"I actually enjoy both," he said in regards to the pool/hot tub with a cheeky smirk. "You got a preference?"

The smile on her face turned absolutely brilliant as she reached over and ran her hand up his chest and off his shoulder. "You, sir, know exactly how to charm a lady. I do so hate the little virgins." Trailing her hand down she caught his as she slipped off her stool, lightly pulling him towards the door. "Now the question is do we make it all the way back to my hotel without touching each other or do we have a makeout session in a back alley. I mean, the added element of edgy danger that we might get mugged is always so titillating."

Because she had so much to fear from a human mugger... Right.

Dean waggled his eyebrows at the bartender as she got handsy with him before turning his attention back to her. "Hey, I try, but cut virgins some slack, everybody was one once," he said, following her toward the door with no hesitation.  This was certainly better than he'd hoped for less than ten minutes earlier. His mind was definitely wiped clean of Sam and Cas for now as he took a long, unabashed look at her ass.

"I'd honestly rather not get mugged, but to each her own I guess," he chuckled, shifting to wrap an arm around her waist as she paused to look up at the sky. His nose wrinkled and he licked his lips, looking away as he was reminded again of that damn angel and his brother.

She walked out into the chilly evening air and looked up at the stars with a hint of wistfulness. "It's amazing that you can see them at all from inside the city." Her gaze fell back to Earth, back to Dean, like a comet. "Must be a good sign, the heavens all ablaze as Love walks about these days." The second half of her words was spoken in a quiet murmur.

"Yeah, right, people are just falling in love everywhere you look," he muttered, clearly not happy. "Love is a joke. But, again, to each their own."

Pharzuph listened to him and shook her head. "I don’t mean love like the feeling, but the ancient deity, Aphrodite. Love is terribly fleeting in most individuals; they feel the first tugs on their heartstrings and they follow it, leaving their obligations and their lives behind." Leaning against him, she wrapped a hand around him and slipped it under his shirt, holding onto the firm flesh of his hip. "But no need to reference ancient history, mine or Greece's."

"And if you're not the sort to go for love, that's all the better. I've always been partial to lust myself. It's a much more honest emotion." Then she lightly dragged her nails up from his hip and around to his back. "Just the push and pull of two bodies trying to share the same space, the same air, the same experience."

Then she lightly pulled him with her as she started walking down the darkened street towards her hotel. No one noticed how the street lights slowly flickered and then turned off in her wake as she fought to control her excitement. Dinner and a movie all before the main event.

She really would have to thank Dean after this was all over.

"Maybe she is.  And if she is, she should be shot, " Dean said sourly, but still with a hint of humor, looking up at his companion. "You are not kidding. It's kind of disgusting really. How much people forget when they're in 'love'." He rolled his eyes and pulled her closer, glancing down at the hand on his hip.

"Lust, yeah, I can get behind lust.” Allowing her to lead him, he was already imagining what they would do to each other once they got back to the room. "It's a lot easier to understand than love. More straightforward. Definitely can get behind lust." As he sauntered with her, he indiscreetly slipped a hand down the back of her pants to give her ass a firm squeeze.

He might have asked more about her but it was clear they were both in it for the sex, so he said nothing as he walked with her, silent and content, warmed by the alcohol in his belly.

"You can get 'behind' lust?" Pharzuph asked playfully, giving him a halfway worried look, which was completely ruined by the smile in her eyes. "Should I be worried that you're going to completely sodomize me?" And then he grabbed her ass and she ran her cold hand up between his shoulder blades and lightly raked down, leaving the barest sting in her wake.

"I have to say that you're a heaven send tonight, Dean. Here I was, worried that I was going to end up spending the night alone with a bottle of vodka and late night infomercials."

"Sodomy isn’t in my book, but squeezing your ass? That still is, I'm afraid. You have a fantastic one, by the way," he reassured her, arching his back lightly into her nails and giving a soft, contented sigh.  He really liked her spunk. What an unexpected find for the night.

"No, please, don't call me a heaven-send. " He rolled his eyes. "If anything I'd rather be from hell. At least they know what they're doing, for the most part. In either case, glad I could protect you from those nasty infomercials." Again his irritation toward Castiel and his brother was showing, but he managed to get it under control as he followed her through the city streets.

The hotel hadn't been far, mainly because it was in the heart of the small town and as such it was quite a bit classier than the one and two star motels that Sam and Dean had practically grown up in. Walking in through the revolving glass door, she led him to an elevator and took it up to the fourteenth floor, which if you counted the floors correctly was the thirteenth; but humans can be so superstitious. Then they were walking down the plush hallway and letting themselves into her room which looked like it could have been on the main spread in an architectural masterpiece magazine.

"Just give me two seconds to slip into something a little more comfortable," she said as she pulled away from his side and started around the corner. "Oh," her head popped back around, hair swaying, "did you want a little watery foreplay first or straight to the main event?"

"Nice digs," he muttered, looking around the large room and moving over to the bed, kicking off his shoes and hopping on it with a bounce. When she looked back at him, he glanced up and then gave a shrug. "Whichever. I can't see how I'd pick wrong there." Lacing his fingers behind his head, he looking up at the ceiling.

She came back out of her bathroom a short while later wearing an immensely flattering one piece bathing suit and a sarong loosely tied over her hips. While most women would have used a bikini to show as much skin as possible and flaunt their body, Pharzuph understood that sometimes it was the play of fabric over the body; what you showed and what you left to the imagination that was the truly exciting part. So her one piece was a halter top, but had almost the entirety of her back exposed besides the corset-lacing going down it to keep it tightly secured.

In all honestly, it looked almost like fetishwear, and it did wonders for her already impressive curves.

The fact that she didn't ask what he thought of her showed two things: first, that she knew how good she looked; and second, that she didn't need his encouragement to feel secure in her own skin. Pharzuph was nothing if not comfortable with her body, no matter what form she was in.

"I don't know if I have anything that will quite help you in a pool, but it's late enough that I don't think anyone would hold it against you if you just went down in your pants," She said, finger tapping against her lips as she appraised him.

Dean was stunned at she came back out, sitting up and raising his brows. Her confidence was definitely one of the biggest turn-ons and he almost regretted his decision. He couldn't wait to get his hands on her. "Wow. I mean, wow." Pushing himself back to sitting on the bed, he let his eyes rake over her, certain she didn't mind it. She certainly didn't wear it to hide anything. "I think you're one of the most beautiful damn women I've ever seen," he breathed as he stood up and walked around her.

Only when she brought his attention to it did he realize that he didn't have anything to wear in a pool and that wasn't exactly good. Pursing his lips for a moment, he sighed and then gave a shrug. "What the hell, let's do it," he said, throwing his hands up and stripping down to his boxers, not at all shy about showing off his own body.

He gave her another grin, waggling his brows playfully.

Pharzuph smirked lightly at his praise. "You have no idea how right you are." For she was indeed the most beautiful of all the damned Host, all except Lucifer himself. "But you really aren't so hard on the eyes yourself," she added when he stripped off the majority of his clothing. Taking a step closer to him, she laid her hands on his chest and leaned forward to run her tongue around the edge of his nipple, but stayed teasingly clear of the flesh itself. As she pulled back she blew lightly on the dampened skin and then smirked playfully up at Dean.

"Now let's see about getting ourselves all wet."

Almost dancing away out of his reach, she opened the door into the hallway and returned to the elevators, waiting for an one to come. "The pool’s down in the basement, but it's quite lovely."

Dean smiled at her, the smiling slowly becoming a grin, and set a hand on her hip with a playful chuckle as she told him he wasn't bad looking either. He knew he wasn't--a lifetime of beautiful women hitting on him had given him somewhat of an ego and this one was another to add to the list. He shivered as she laid her hands on his chest and then sucked in a breath at the teasing, reaching out to grab for her and groaning softly as she danced away. He wanted her, badly now, and he followed her with hungry eyes.

"The basement? I guess if they're keeping it heated year round." He smirked, backing her up against the the elevator door by her hips and leaning down to try and steal a kiss.

"Well, it's not exactly a dank--" Her words were cut off as Dean leaned into her and she quickly moved to meet him in the middle, all passion and fire. She kissed the same way she did everything, with enthusiasm and reason and just a hint of reckless abandon, instantly deepening the kiss with her tongue licking at his lower lip. She wrapped her arms around the small of his back and pulled him closer, enjoying the play of their bodies pressed together.

When the elevator dinged and the doors opened she simply went with it, pulling Dean in with her until she hit the back wall of the elevator. One hand moved down to grab at the man's ass through his boxers, glad that Dean knew a little more about what he was doing then Castiel had, it made the experience so much more enjoyable when she wasn't the only one working.

"You, sir, are quite a catch. You're just fortunate that I believe in releasing the fish after I get them on my hook... And what a release I give..."

Dean kissed her back hungrily, deeply, easily matching her passion and boldly returning it with his own. He was still trying to wipe the memory of Castiel and Sam from his mind, losing himself in a night with a pretty woman. It hadn't worked before, but it didn't stop him from trying, and as they hit the back wall of the elevator, he scooped her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, leaning into and grinding against her hard and giving a soft groan of pure lust.

"Not sure I want to let you go yet," he growled back with half a chuckle as he ground against her again, leaning down to kiss from her clavicle to her neck and then up to her ear as he pulled her off the wall and then pushed her back against another with one more increasingly sexual rock.

He reached out, fumbling for the elevator buttons, pushing the one marked basement before returning to his prize.

Pharzuph moaned into Dean's throat as he moved against her, but was chuckling when she heard his next words. Moving to toy with his ear, she bit lightly on the lobe and whispered out of the side of her mouth, "No offense, big boy, but I don't think you could hold onto me. But we'll have a wild ride while we're at it." Her very essence was the chase, the pull, the attraction, and the action; she was no more a creature to hold onto than the wind itself.

Sadly humans so rarely understood that and they had this terrible tendency to try and keep her. Terrible, terrible things had happened whenever they did. She had been Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, Marilyn Monroe, and countless other names and faces capturing the hearts and minds of whole nations.

However, she'd always enjoyed the smaller scale of one-on-one interaction.

“We'll see," he muttered back, grabbing her ass and squeezing as he ground against her with a controlled, calculated roll of his hips. He returned to kissing her passionately, keeping her sandwiched between himself and the wall as he lifted his hand to run it into her hair, holding her nape as he invaded her mouth, her space, inhaling her scent deeply.

Pressed against the wall as she was and held up by Dean, Pharzuph was free to use her hands to claw at Dean's back, tracing sigils and random patterns that she found hit the most sensitive spots. Her thighs squeezed tighter around him as his motion became more calculated and precise. "Indeed we shall."

He groaned in disappointment when the elevator dinged and then stubbornly dropped his hands to her ass again, simply carrying her out before they got stuck in a ride.

"Which way?" he managed to huff, holding her close as he glanced down the hallways.

When the doors opened and he pulled her away from the wall, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and neck, one hand gripping the opposite arm while the other dangled, occasionally touching Dean's back. "To the left and straight down this hall. Can't miss it." With him distracted by walking, she shimmied herself a little higher, into a more comfortable position around him, and then she began sucking on his neck in the little hollow between his ear and jaw.

Thankfully the hallway was a short one, so when she could smell the chlorine and saw the soft patterns that the light through the water threw on the ceiling she unwrapped herself from Dean and took a step back. Looking around the pool for a moment, she returned her gaze to Dean and then smiled again before taking off towards the deep end and jumping. She arched through the air with perfect form, slicing into the water with barely anything more than a ripple to tell of her passing. Popping back up through the surface, she ran a hand through her hair to clear it away from her face and glanced enticingly at Dean. "Come on, the water's fine."

He carried her down the hall and though it was easy, it wasn't easy. Her hands and her mouth were incredibly distracting and the elder Winchester was panting by the time he got to the pool, completely aroused, incredibly aware of everything about her. He was almost trembling when she managed to wiggle away from him and he actually reached for her again as she stepped back.

He cursed as she turned and booked for the pool, unable to help but admire the perfect curves and just how graceful she was. She almost looked like she was fucking flying. Clearing his throat and making sure he didn't look too stupid, Dean chuckled and then smirked.

"Alright, Pocahontas." He jogged toward the pool and, feeling the need to show off just a little, he was proud of himself when he actually managed to pull off most of a front-flip cannonball, laughing as he surfaced and flicked the water from his hair.

"Oh, goodness no, I don't sing as well as she did," Pharzuph responded playfully, ducking back under the water and swimming towards the shallow end, only stopping when she could stand up and touch the bottom while still submerged to her waist. "Now think of the water as delayed gratification, a nice slow burn. I'll be as irresistible as I can, and you can play if you can catch me. I hope you've got good lung capacity."

It had been almost a thousand years since she had last played with the Sirens near Crete and how she'd missed the ways that they had showed her to use the water as the enticement. With a human partner, water was the closest they could ever get to flight.

So she jumped into the water, her firm ass bent in perfect form as she dove back under, legs trailing in fluid grace. Using a dolphin kick and the smallest fluttering of her wings, she shot across the bottom of the pool, toying with the hunter's feet whenever she came close, one time nipping at his toes. Then she surfaced a few yards away from him and scissor kicked, floating with the light bobbing motion of the water. "So, think you can catch me?"

She'd play fair and wouldn't really use her wings... unless she felt he needed the tension drawn out longer.

Dean watched her with smouldering green eyes, simultaneously loving and hating that she was teasing him. He didn't really want to play anymore, all he wanted to do was press her back to the edge of the pool and pull her suit off slowly. He wanted to watch how her breasts floated in the water; wanted to see how her curls would cling to her throat and shoulders. Treading water himself, he watched her come close, stilling his legs as she neared them and smirking as she went after his toes and following her lazily as she surfaced.

"Mnn, I didn't realize we came down here to play Marco Polo. I don't want to waste all my energy chasing you. Clearly you are more at home in the water than I am," he said, almost coyly. "But I'll be here when you decide you're done being a tease."  He shrugged, never in the habit of chasing a woman. He didn't have to.

He knew he wouldn't have to chase her either.

"Oh, you're no fun," Pharzuph pouted playfully, pushing water towards Dean's face. "Hopefully you put a little more effort into other endeavors." She glided across the surface of the water, her hair fanning out behind her like a train, and when she stopped in front of the hunter, it swirled in small back eddies. The water made her shine in the underlit room, ripples of light dancing across the ceiling and wall behind her.

"Oh, I can promise you, I am fun and I will put more effort into other endeavors," Dean chuckled as she came to him, licking his own bottom lip as he looked her over again. She was so breathtaking in the water that it only felt right to hold his breath and dive with her, running his hand into her hair as he kissed her underwater.

Altogether, the moment was perfectly surreal as she reached forward and pulled Dean underwater to kiss her.

While she needed no air to survive, she was careful to watch how badly Dean needed to return to the surface, but she couldn't help enjoying the feeling of burning lungs as their lips locked together against the seep of water. Breaking back up above the surface, she took in a burning lungful of air, the pain making her feel alive as it always had. "Ever done it in the water?"

It was like something out of a fucking fairy tale book. Like kissing a mermaid and Dean loved every second of it, finally pulling back to breathe as she surfaced as well. Panting a bit, he chuckled. "I've... had some experience," he said with a sly nod before moving forward to slide her closer to the edge of the pool, pinning her against it with a hand on either side of her head.

Slowly he dropped one hand, deliberately sliding it behind her back and plucking her suit strings undone as he caught and held her eyes. When they were loosened, he edged the straps off her shoulders as he began to kiss down her throat.


	12. The Bargaining Chip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Backed into the corner, Sam has decisions to make, while Dean and Castiel's lives hang in the balance.

As much fun as Pharzuph was having, she sadly did have a timetable to keep, and there just was never enough time for what she wanted. As Dean kissed her throat, she twisted her head and whispered, "I am sorry Dean, but I'm going to have to cut this short, the natives are getting restless." Suddenly the pool had an audience as countless demons stood with black eyes fixed on this spectacle of debauchery and sin.

Placing one hand on the back of his head to keep him from looking up, she placed her other hand over his anti-possession tattoo and heated her hand, fingers curling into the flesh like meat hooks. Being underwater made no difference as corrupted Grace ate away at skin and ink, marring his chest with blisters and burning flesh and crispy skin. If the Grace burning its way through Dean's flesh was not enough pain, then the chlorine seeping into the wound was.

As his mouth bit down hard on her neck, she flapped her wings and they were both suddenly on the floor besides the pool. Touching two fingers to Dean's forehead, she froze him in place and stood up, the front of her bathing suit falling to expose her breast to the air. She figured letting him see them in his last moments was some sort of consolation prize as she ordered a demon to take him.

Shit, shit, shit. Dean knew something was wrong as soon as she started speaking, and it was only a moment before confirmation arrived when he tried to lift his head and found it locked in place. The hand over his mark heated quickly as her fingers sank into his chest, and the hunter snarled against her throat, doing the only thing he could to fight her. His teeth were the only weapons in striking range, and so he used them, biting down hard as blood and charred pieces of his flesh dirtied the water. It hurt, goddamn it hurt, and the hunter gasped as he hit the cold tiles. He tried to roll, but she stopped him with a touch to the forehead, just like Castiel. He wasn't looking at her tits, now, just her face, with an expression of disgust so pure it left no room for interpretation.

He hated her with everything in him. The pain in his chest was excruciating, and he couldn't even get his mouth open to call Cas' name before a demon was forcing its way into him, clawing at his mind, tearing it apart from the inside out as it rifled through his memories, searching for the information it had been tasked to find.

Dean fought as valiantly as he could, but was shut out of his own body by the creature.

Now black eyes lifted to their mistress, and the demon let a smile touch his lips. "I know where the rings are."

Once the demon was inside of Dean and the short battle for possession was underway, Pharzuph changed her appearance yet again, features flowing like liquid silk. Her latest appearance was that of a hispanic woman with short black hair that framed her face in a pixie cut, a deep crimson men's dress shirt hanging open and showing her black corset underneath which ended an inch higher than her very low hung black trousers. Shaking out her hair, enjoying the feeling of how short it was, she opened her now piercingly blue eyes and smiled down at Dean.

"Oh Surgat, I knew you were the right demon for the job." She praised him, bending forward to press a kiss against Dean's forehead. "Now, where do we need to go to collect them? And does he have a reliable way to contact Death? That old man is always so bad about making house calls."

Surgat smiled, delighted with his kiss. He closed his eyes for a moment and then murmured a set of coordinates softly. "Buried out in the middle of nowhere. Clever." he murmured, chuckling. "As for Death, Death can be bound." He raised his brows and glanced down at himself for a moment before looking back up at his fallen.

"That form suits you, but then again, all forms suit you." he purred softly, taking her hand to kiss it gently. "Shall I go fetch this one's clothes, or would you still be interested in sampling a Winchester's wares." he smirked deviously.

"Ever the flatterer, Surgat." Pharzuph smirked and made a mental note of where she needed to go. "And as much as I would love to," trailing a finger under Dean's chin, she leaned closer and breathed in his scent mixed with the chlorine, "there's no rest for the wicked. I need to go get those rings. However I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to play together later. Just you, me, and Dean-y-boy makes three." Pulling back up, she waved a hand and all the demons powerful enough to teleport vacated the premise, each having been told their jobs earlier.

The demon shook his head with a tip of Dean's lips and closed his eyes quietly. "It's not flattery if it's true, my dearest lady." he murmured, chuckling softly and biting his bottom lip at the promise of fun later. "How wonderful. I'll look forward to it." he murmured softly, dipping his head as many of their horde broke away.

Turning to her second in command, Forcas, she raised a sculpted eyebrow. "Well, anything you see that we still need to be careful of? Because call me optimistic, but I think we've finally gotten ourselves into a position that we can raise Lucifer from his prison."

"I will want you to be with Surgat when he and the demons call for Castiel, while I'm getting the rings and dealing with Death. I'll join as soon as I can, but... we all know how difficult Death can be." It was crucial to have not only overwhelming forces, but also control. They didn't want Castiel to be killed by overly zealous hordes. He would be crucial to the final move.

Surgat watched both Fallen carefully, standing with his hands behind his back, ignoring the excruciating pain of the burn still on his shoulder as the second Fallen turned toward Pharzuph.

Before he could say anything, Surgat bared his teeth slightly. "He says he won't call the angel." he warned softly, waving a hand in irritation.

Pharzuph turned, "What? Did I hear wrong? Because that sounds like he thinks he has a choice in the matter. Are you too weak to hold him, Surgat? If you don't believe you're able to play him like a fiddle, then I have a hundred other demons who are just waiting for the chance." She crouched down and took Dean's face in her hand, painted nails as black as night catching at his stubble. "You have been possessed before, right Dean? Been around possession? It takes a very strong willed person to resist the demon inside them, and sorry love, but we all know that you're not that strong."

"Hell took too much out of you. Left you too broken."

Then she stood back up, adding, "Besides, if you don't call Castiel, we'll go after Sammy boy. I know you’re upset with him and his treacherous angel, but I very much doubt you're so angry that you'd wish this fate on him. But it doesn't matter much to me either way. If we have him possessed until we're ready, that works just as well." With a look as cold as ice, she gazed into Dean's eyes and sneered, "So it's all up to you, sweety. You either make this easy on yourself and your brother, or you make it very, very hard. And while you're attractive, you're not so much so that I wouldn't let them have their way with you to change your mind."

"I'm not too weak. " Surgat huffed slightly, waving his hand, “but I doubt the angel is going to come when I call. It won't be the same as this one praying," he muttered, jerking a thumb at himself and then rolled his eyes, before receding to let her talk to Dean, who slapped her hand away angrily and tried to punch her before the demon froze his fist in midair. "Lady. I fucking know all too well what it takes... and I..." he started, though Surgat moved to prove a point by shutting him up mid-sentence.

Black eyes flickered again and again a devilish smirk crossed Dean's features before he laughed outright.

"Oh, he says that Castiel and Sam can protect themselves!" He laughed, softly before rapping on his own temple. "Someone didn't get the memo that the angel isn't with your little brother anymore, did they?"  Another moment passed. "No, I've no reason to lie right now, but it doesn't matter. One way or another you will pray."

Shifting he turned to his Fallen Mistress and quietly offered up the directions for calling and binding Death. "I suppose we can hand this body to the others to play with for a while? Until he cracks?" he murmured. "I can take back over once he does."

"He's got quite a lot of bravado, too bad, it's always hardest on those who don't know when they're already beaten." Pharzuph commented after Surgat snapped control back from Dean. It really was a fun game, playing the human, and now playing the demon, making him prove himself. While pride wasn't part of her essence, she had always found it a particularly efficient tool to get her way with others.

"You're right, he really has been out of loop for too long. I'll bet he doesn't even know what the angel got his little Sammy addicted to." Tutting, she shifted her weight to one hip and crossed her arms. "Of course we probably should blame your brother. He wasn't strong enough to fight off another addiction without anyone to hold him accountable. Sad, really. But then again, you lot never were his family. He belongs with Lucifer, simple as that."

Surgat, smirked slightly and chuckled before raising his brows. "Oh.. Nothing much. Just his own blood," he purred, obviously answering Dean trapped in his mind. "Oh shush, calm down. It will be over soon enough. You'll never have to worry about Sam again. It's a little late for that. Yes.. You are a terrible brother.” He laughed, obviously having fun, and examined Dean's nails for a moment.

"Oh well, If that's how you want to be then. You know, you're not as strong as you think you are. If we have to prove it to you, it's not a terribly hard thing."

He tapped his chin and glanced around at the demons surrounding them all. "Shall we get to breaking him then, Madam? I'll wager we can have him calling the angel before you manage to get death summoned." he purred.

Pharzuph knew that she was taking far too much pleasure in seeing the willful man trapped inside his own flesh, hearing how much he had failed those he loved. There was simply something enthralling of knowing that you had everything you needed to break a man, almost as enjoyable as actually sleeping with him would have been. "Alright. Break him."

Turning her attention to Forcas briefly, she informed him to watch over the process and call her the moment Dean broke and called the angel. "Just remember," she looked between the two of them, "we need him alive enough to have something to barter with, something for our dear Sam to want to protect. If you kill him, yes, we can keep his meat suit moving, but that's not quite the same for humans. They need the hope that we might release their loved ones."

Having said her peace, she vanished to dig up the rings and confront Death.

She rather envied them their work instead.

With a chuckle and a nod, the demon bowed as she left, and then poured out of the human to watch and wait. The lower ranking demons crammed into the room surrounded Dean, not giving the human any time to react, or any room to fight. A string of curses was first to exit the mortal's mouth, and soon enough, they turned to cries of pain, and then screams as demons took their turns, eager for a chance to cause one of the Winchester's pain, to help break him to raise their lord.

Though the marks and bruises they laid on him bled profusely, none were life-threatening, and the Winchester fought as long as he could. All ten of his fingers ended up broken in the process, and several of his ribs were fractured before he finally whispered Castiel's name, hoping that what he'd been told wasn't true. That the angel had not left his brother.That the angel had not let his brother get addicted to blood. That the angel would not bring Sammy with him.

Surgat forced his way back inside the Winchester without a moment's hesitation as Forcas mentally let his fellow Fallen know that Castiel had been called.

 

* * *

 

A thousand miles away, a lonely angel's head popped up, eyes wide and wild as he heard the human he once considered his family call out to him. The pain was obvious, and he knew that Dean was in trouble. In a panic, he extended a psychic tendril to Sam, and then followed it, appearing next to the man he had once called his lover, but hadn't seen in weeks.

"Sam. Dean's in trouble." he said softly,  his eyes almost frantic, with not time for explanation. "I don't know what has happened, but he's hurt, badly, and there are demons. Gather what supplies you have. Now."

Sam was having withdrawals, very serious withdrawals that made his skin freeze and the walls crack. He had tried to ride them out inside a hotel room, but found that the random spikes of energy were causing far too much damage as he lashed out at visions that weren't really there. So that's why he found himself in the middle of the forest, blood running down his knuckles and face, and no idea what was real and what wasn't.

"Cas?" He blinked, trying to get his eyes to focus better, "Cas, you come to berate me too?" There was no doubt in his mind that Castiel was simply another vision, another symptom of his madness. "It's alright, I deserve it. I shouldn't... I..." But then he shut up at the words that came out of Castiel's mouth. Those weren't the sorts of things that his other visions had said.

Maybe this was a new way his mind had seen fit to torture him with? Yeah, that could make sense.

Telling him that Dean was in trouble and he needed to save him, yeah, sounded about par for the course really.

Castiel stared at Sam, taking in his lover's state in a moment, his eyes widening slowly as he realized, he'd done this as well. Reaching up, to touch Sam's forehead with two fingers, he healed his lover's injuries and reached through the psychic link to try and ground him. "Where are your supplies?" he tried again, breathing deeply, licking his bottom lip.

"Dean needs our help. Now Sam," he hissed again. There was no time for him to baby the Winchester through his withdrawals. Looking around for a moment, he grit his teeth and then focused, using his powers to violently split the skin of his wrist, and pressing the wound to Sam's mouth as he kept it open with his mind.

Just a few seconds, just a few mouthfuls, to allow Sam to think again, but not enough to get him high. He needed Sam at his best. The area he'd heard Dean's voice from had been crawling with demons.

Sam shook his head, the world lagging in his vision. When Castiel healed his injuries, he was at least willing to entertain the possibility that this wasn't simply another hallucination, and then their link bloomed to life again and he was sure it wasn't. "Cas..." He moaned softly as the scent of blood filled the air, his eyes pleading Castiel to not hate him for how little control he had, even now, after he had lost everything.

Diving forward, he latched onto the wound and savored every drop of that sweet nectar. His own Grace hummed with the fresh supply, power thrumming through his body. But before he was anywhere near satisfied, Castiel pushed him off, closing the wound instantly, and Sam was almost mortified by the pleading whimper that he made. Almost.

Taking a deep breath, he smiled as the blood instantly banished the withdrawal, replaced with too much power. "My gear's stowed back at my room, been stealing cars so I have to keep everything on hand." He showed Castiel the location for the room through their link.

Castiel looked horrified as Sam smiled and then simply took the man's forearm, nearly disintegrating a few seconds in his rush to get to the hotel. He had no idea what they would need, and through Sam's power was strong, one could never be too prepared. He waited just long enough for Sam to grab his supplies, before dragging them both hard and fast to the hotel where he could sense Dean. Except, he couldn't really sense the elder Winchester any longer.

He's inside. I think, he spoke to Sam quietly through their link, knowing that Sam could feel the dark energy radiating from the place. He was when he called, he finished, his eyes darting over the building seeing demons in random windows, around random corners.

This isn't good. There are so many. Someone's rallied them. His mind immediately darted back to his sister, and he took a slow breath before looking up at Sam quietly. The could be trying to release Lucifer. he breathed. If they've possessed Dean, it's possible for certain demons to go through memories. he murmured.

Sam looked over at Castiel, confusion written plainly on his face. They're trying to release Lucifer? But... how? He had personally ensured that the archangel was back in the Cage, and Lilith no longer existed to serve as the final seal. Had the seals not reset after he had dove into the Cage? Or... Castiel had been able to sneak into the Cage and steal away his body; perhaps they had a similar backdoor that they were going to open.

Well, whatever the case, we need to get Dean out of there. I'll see if I can't distract them while you go and get Dean.

With a fresh hit of angel blood in his veins, Sam knew he would be strong enough to tangle with the demons; although with how many he sensed in there, it wouldn't be for long. Of course, if their goal was to raise Lucifer, they wouldn't do any serious damage to him.

Castiel blinked as he looked at Sam. I can only guess that the rings can open the cage again. he murmured softly, looking back at the hotel. The seals have already been broken. They don't have to be broken a second time. He closed his eyes for a moment, still searching for the elder Winchester, though he was unable to identify his energy. Either way, there was no way to simply sneak in.

Glancing at Sam with a sad expression, the angel was gone in a flutter of wings and a barely there mental caress, appearing in the middle of the top floor. Dean could be in absolutely any one of the hotel's rooms, and the angel wouldn't know unless he went through each one.

Swift, harsh gestures of his hands blew down each door as he stalked passed them, not even pausing in his stride down the hallway, despite the demons that plagued the place.

Sam swore under his breath as Castiel disappeared. The last thing they needed was to charge in half cocked, but he supposed that was the only option now. Getting up from where he'd been crouching, he ran across the empty parking lot and tested the front doors, they were open. As he pushed through the revolving glass door the air temperature chilled, and by they time he was fully inside the building, he found his breath created little puffs of fog in front of him.

The presence of the demonic legion inside the building almost overwhelmed him as he crept through the lobby. What had once been a beautiful hotel had been transformed overnight into a hellish nightmare, with paint peeling from the walls and endless sigils written in blood. Every light switch that Sam came across seemed defunct, so he was forced to move through the room with nothing more than the small illumination of the moon streaming in through the windows and glass doors.

There was a hush to the air, an unearthly quiet that he had always attributed to the calm before the storm, and it unnerved him far worse than any sounds possibly could have. However when the silence was broken by a long metallic scraping from somewhere in the distance, he spun around, heart suddenly in his throat. But the sound died away into nothing again, and Sam was careful as he moved ever forward, feet placed with the utmost care to remain perfectly silent.

Then he noticed it, the slightest pull from beneath him.

He decided that if the power was out, the elevator wouldn't work, so he slipped into the stairwell and began descending.

Floor by floor Castiel tore through the hotel, moving too quickly for the low ranking demons who could not teleport waiting for him in the rooms. Papers fluttered, debris was dragged into the hallways by his passing as he searched every room on every floor in less than a minute, leaving a mess of hungry, angry demons behind. He had to find Dean first and foremost. He had to make sure his friend was okay. He didn't worry about being silent like Sam, infact, he wanted to cause a distraction if possible, to draw as many to him as he could.

But soon there was nothing left to check but the lower levels, and the angel dreaded what he may find as he periodically reached out to Sam just to make certain he was alright. He loved the human no less for their time apart. He possibly loved him even more, he certainly missed him terribly.

Arriving in the basment with the flutter of wings. Castiel nearly froze at the site that greeted him.

Hundreds of possessed humans surrounded him, watching him with glittering eyes, and at the forefront, Dean, possessed, now wearing a pair of jeans, his anti-possession tattoo cruelly burned off of his chest. He was covered from head to toe in blood, scratches, bites and bruises scattered over the visible skin, though blood stained through the pants as well. The angel felt nearly sickened by the way Dean's fingers were bent, and he furrowed his brows in guilt. Castiel wanted to heal the man, but instead summoned his blade. He stood there for several seconds, but none of them moved toward him as Dean threw up his broken hands and laughed darkly.

"Good to see you again Castiel. Welcome to the show! Why don't you have a seat?" he purred.

Sam felt a change in the air, as if a charge was building up, and he hastened his pace down the stairs. When he shoved through the door, he found himself in a hallway, surrounded by demons; however while he could feel their excitement at the thought of a kill, a hunt, not a single demon made a move towards him. In fact, they seemed to regard him with reverence, parting like the sea, closing in behind him to usher him towards the pool.

He had nearly forgotten how much it reviled him to have demons look upon him with that wistful expression, knowing he was the vessel of their father.

The hallway that they herded him through was even worse than upstairs, lights blown out and glass everywhere, ash and the scent of burned flesh heavy in the air. Down here, without the aid of the moon, the only illumination came from the pool at the end of the hall, a faint light that danced in waves across the walls, giving the whole scene an unearthly aquamarine tint. Sam felt like he was underwater and drowning.

Then he saw Castiel facing off with Dean, and his heart sank when he saw that the demons had removed the only protection Dean had against them.

"Oh look! Sammy's here too!" the demon in Dean's body chuckled and gestured, and Castiel glanced slowly at Sam. "Took you both long enough. Course you're too late, really." He paused and tipped his head to the side.

"Dean apparently doesn't like anyone else calling you Sammy. Isn't that just friggin adorable?" The demon had adopted Dean's mannerisms, though slightly more exuberant, and the body of the elder Winchester sidled through the crowd, green eyes turning black with a blink of his eyes. "In case both of you were wondering, and I think you should know; he still loves you, no matter what he said to you, you'll always be his family. Both of you."

Running his hand through the blood on his own chest and slicking it back through his hair, he turned his gaze back on the angel that hissed from across the room.

"Let him go." Castiel warned softly, to any and everyone that surrounded them,only to be graced with another laugh from Dean.

"Not a chance. Do you see this? I'm actually possessing a Winchester. Sure the body's a little broken, but we can fix that, after we've had our fun, can't we Dean? " he purred, before looking up directly at Sam. "Lucifer will be here soon, you know. It will go easier for everyone if you say yes and just save us all the trouble."

Sam was sickened by the thought that Dean had a demon riding him, using him, controlling his brother's body while Dean was screaming inside. The anger inside him flared and he clenched his hands into fists, knowing that exorcising the demon from Dean now would do no good with the legion that surrounded them. With his powers he knew he could take them, but Dean was their hostage, their linchpin, and they knew all too well that as long as they held him, Sam wouldn't do anything stupid.

Cas, please tell me you have a plan. Could I exorcise the demon and have you get Dean out of here? Or... something?

"Oh, how unexpected." Broke in a strange voice as an unassuming man broke from the crowd to stand beside Dean. "It looks like you were right, they can communicate. A meager human able to use telepathy, truly marvelous." Forcas smiled lazily, looking between Castiel and Sam. "I really wouldn't suggest trying anything, unless you want to lose both of them." And he sent a threatening glance in Sam's direction, letting him know all too plainly that he was the only one whom orders stated needed to remain alive.

The angel had stiffened at the words from Dean's mouth, also sickened knowing that his friend had been taken by a demon. He couldn't tell the true extent of Dean's injuries without getting closer, but at least he knew that they weren't life threatening. Or he hoped not. None of them looked that deep. Sam couldn't use his powers without getting mobbed first, and Castiel could not use his killing touch. If he tried to take them all out at once, he would end up killing Dean as well.

The seraph's wings fluttered, and then went rigid as another voice curled from the crowd. Not the same Fallen as before...  Castiel felt his throat dry, and then anger bubbled in him hot and heavy as the demon possessing Dean spoke again. "Of course he's truly marvelous. He's Lucifer's true vessel. Though I must admit, Michael's isn't half bad either."

Castiel shifted his weight from one foot to the other, gritting his teeth and all but growling. He refused to be a pawn again. He refused to be used as a chess piece. In an instant, the blink of an eye, he cutting through the demons closest to him, swing wildly, attacking almost blindly as he fought his way toward the Fallen.

The demon riding Dean clapped excitedly and waved at Sam through the crowd that had begun to surge in the angel's direction. "Isn't this the greatest thing? Maybe we'll pull off those wings of his and have a barbecue." He grinned, wide and feral and /cold/  before trailing his hands down over his own stomach, over his hips.

"Your brother's quite a slut Sammy. Did you know that? Don't worry, I'm sure we can find some fun things to do with him before he dies again. If we get him dinner first, anyway. That's how it goes on earth, right?" The demon waggled his brows at the words dinner and jerked a playful thumb in Castiel's direction.

Sam was seeing red at the demon's words, twisting his brother into this abomination, and he tried his best not to dwell on anything that came from its lips. Those words weren't Dean. He remembered what it was like to be possessed by a demon, and his heart broke with sympathy for his brother. He really didn't want to think what this particular demon imagined would be fun.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Castiel making his way for Dean and the Fallen, and he decided that was as good of a distraction as he could get. Slowly, he began walking towards his brother.

"You really think you're going to win this?" Throwing his hand out, light erupted from five demons, killed instantly. "You shouldn't underestimate us. Not Cas. Not me. And least of all Dean. So you have your fun," another hand wave and seven more demons dropped, "because when we're through with you, you'll wish you'd never heard of the Winchesters."

Embracing his dark gifts, Sam sent out a wave of death for the demons, a whole swath of the possessed bodies suddenly collapsing. The demons finally seemed to decide that this was the moment to fight back, lest they all perish. So Sam flexed his Grace and jumped to narrowly avoid a right hook, ducking under another demon, only to roll forward and place his hand onto a third, killing it instantly. They pressed in on him from all angles, and no matter how swift he was, how much power and Grace he used, they were simply everywhere.

"We don't think we're going to win this, we know..." Forcas said as he flew forward and clashed blades with Castiel, guarding Dean. "You are simply out manned and out matched."

Castiel was a righteous ball of furious energy, dealing blow after blow, spinning dodging ducking, tapping a demon or two on the forehead and dropping them as he focused on the fallen. He ached with anger, and paid no heed to hands tearing at his coat, pulling at him from all sides. He was was going to gut Forcas, he was going to save Dean, and each motion was nothing but pure, focused energy. The angel had two things left in the world that he cared about, and he couldn't let them be taken from him.

His blade sang as it slid along his brother's, and Castiel pressed close, blue eyes almost electric with rage. He dimly realized Sam was fighting, but he barely heard the words spoken, and he dare not pay attention lest he lose his focus. It was pure chaos. The Demons that arrived in force, as if the fallen had managed to pull thousands from hell with them, and as one dropped, two more seemed to be there to take their places.

Dean laughed all the harder as both creatures pressed toward him slowly, as best they could, his teeth glinting in the light as he enjoyed the show. "He's right you know." He said softly, jerking his thumb toward the Fallen and looking back at Sam. "I think you're the one overestimating here Sammy. Do you know how broken you brother is? He knows this is the end, and he's not even going to get to talk to you, one last time."

"He's barely fighting anymore." he purred, wiggling back and forth as if there were a song playing only he could hear. "That'll make it less entertaining when we have our fun, but hey, who cares? Of course, you could say yes and stop all this, but you won't," he sang softly. "Poor little Sammy. How does it feel without your big brother there to take care of your ass? How does it feel to know that you drove him so far into the dirt that he had to turn his back to protect himself from you. You've been kind of an ungrateful shit to him, what with all the lies and the angel fucking; though good on you for getting your own piece of Heaven, I suppose. I wonder what that's like."

"Maybe we won't have to kill the Angel. I'd hate for that body to go to waste."

Sam kept up a mantra in his head as he fought against the endless demons, a silent reminder that everything the demon said was lies; because the demon had every reason to lie, every reason to drive a wedge between him and Dean. "You need to shut your lying mouth." He bellowed as he pushed off yet another demon who was trying to restrain him and sent another blast of exorcism out. "Dean was better off without me to drag him down, and he would have been fine if you sorry lot hadn't jumped him."

Forcas laughed outright at Sam's words as he danced around Castiel, parrying and dodging far too easily as the demons continued to hinder his opponent. "You shouldn't speak of things you don't know, Winchester. Dean walked into our trap quite willingly, but he always was a sucker for a pretty woman." Then he snapped his fingers and holy oil ignited, a circle trapping Castiel where he was. "Now I must agree with your brother. If you say yes now, we won't be forced to kill off your 'family'."

With Castiel trapped in place, the demons poured over him in waves.

"You know Forcas, I'm surprised he didn't hold out until we did kill him. Maybe he hoped he could speak to his 'brother' again." Surgat crooned cruelly as the fire trapped the fallen Castiel.

"Maybe he hoped, just once, that Sammy could speak to him, tell him the truth about everything. Hope is a terrible thing, isn't it? Noooo Sammy. Your brother's been so fucked up by you that's he's spent every night since he left getting blackout drunk. Do you know how much alcohol that takes for this body? He's built up quite a tolerance, but his liver is shot. Hard to keep drinking like that up with no angel around to heal you. " Shifting to move backwards through the tangle of limbs, he continued to chuckle as if Christmas had come early.

"And to think, he was still doing everything for you. He was trying to make good on his deal with Crowley, even after both of you betrayed him. Poor idiot," he ran a bloody hand through golden locks and focused on the Seraph, whose mobility had been severely hindered. One demon managed to push Castiel's hand in the fire, and the angel snarled in pain, before jerking it up and sending a blast in the direction opposite of Dean. A whole line of the possessed fell over and the angel managed to climb to his feet again, injured hand trembling  as he transferred the blade to the other. Castiel was already growing exhausted, and his eyes were still on Forcas.

"Stop it!" Sam yelled out, loosing control with his anger and flinging the demons around him away with a telekinetic push. "Don't you dare talk about him as if you understand him. You might be inside him, but it takes a whole lot more than that to understand Dean. He's stronger than you will ever understand." In the back of his mind, he knew he was wrong. Once a demon got into your head, they knew you, could read you like an open book. But he had to deny it, had to keep Dean on the impossible pedestal that he'd had him on since they were kids.

Dean was the one solid thing in his life, he couldn't let that foundation be shaken.

"I know I screwed up, time and time again." Another blast send demons sprawling. "And I know there were times that I shouldn't have been forgiven." Twelve demons froze solid, blood crystallizing in their veins. "But he always forgave me, kept trying to save me." Sam snarled and leapt at his brother, hands clutching his collar. "But that's why he's better than me, better than you'll ever understand. It isn't weakness, it's his strength to keep going long after anyone else would have given up." Laying his hand on Dean's face, he closed his eyes and sent out another blast around them, exorcising all the demons in range except for Dean.

He had no way of telling if Dean would survive the demon leaving, no way of knowing if he had internal injuries or hemorrhaging. His only hope was to defend him from the other demons and protect him from himself long enough that Castiel could heal him.

Forcas threw his angel sword while Castiel was distracted, catching him in the back, blade sinking in.

“Oh. But Sammy, you should know that once we're in here, nothing is sacred. We know everything. Secrets, hopes, dreams, fears. Everything. I can see every memory from the time he could form memories. I can see how deep every lie cut. I can see how worrying about you has quite literally, killed him several times." Sugrat purred as Sam dragged him up by the jacket. It was too delicious seeing the pain on Sam's face. He may be Lucifer's vessel, but if he burned Sam out, wouldn't there be that much more room for Lucifer himself?  He wrapped broken fingers around Sam's wrists, chuckling and showing bloody teeth as he glanced over Sam's shoulder.

"Game's over. You lose." he said softly, giving Sam a pout as Castiel caught the blade in his back. Almost instantly, the grace connecting him to Sam snapped and faded as the angel-killing blade sapped his grace. Castiel wasn't able to contain the cry of pain as his legs simply gave out, the nerves in his vessel's spine severed quickly and cleanly.  "Aww, look at that. I guess we won't have to worry about getting kicked in the face now, but that's such a shame."

Castiel coughed as he lay on the ground, curling against himself so no part of him was outside the fiery ring, his eyes clenched tightly closed. The knuckles gripping his own blade were white, shaking as his brows furrowed and his eyes lifted to Sam, a few feet away and a thousand miles apart simultaneously. Breathing hard, in excruciating pain, he lifted his free hand to his back, fingers gripping Forcas' blade and trying to dislodge it.

Sam looked between Dean and Castiel, torn between what he should do. This wasn't a choice he wanted to make, not again.

Setting Dean down, he shot him a glare, before he turned and ran for Castiel's side, demons scratching at him as he passed. He jumped over the low wall of flames, landing in a crouch next to Castiel. "Cas... hey, come on, what do I do?" The last time that Castiel had been injured, there had been nothing he could do but watch, hope, and pray. This time, this time he was stronger, knew better, so there had to be some way he could change what was happening in front of his very eyes.

He couldn't lose them both, not like this.

Forcas chuckled cruelly, "Oh, isn't this precious Dean? He's abandoned you again to stay by his angel's side."

"SHUT UP!" Sam yelled, wishing everyone would stop telling Dean how he didn't care or tell him how much he'd already hurt Dean.

He knew. He fucking knew.

Castiel managed to get the blade out, cutting his fingers to the bone as he pulled at it, gritting his teeth as his body started to shake, no longer willing to cooperate. He was struggling for breath, his eyes fluttering as he looked up at Sam, brows furrowing with a sense of helplessness and loss.

Surgat laughed darkly again and rubbed his hands together. "Of course he'd leave Dean. Who would want a useless human brother when you can have a hot piece of angel? Dean can't help him. Dean can't heal him. Dean can't feed him blood or take him to the nicest hotels. He can't take Sam to Paris for coffee. His best is little more that dirt, and he knows it. Oh does he know it. Even family comes second to 'true love'." His words were oozing venomous sarcasm as he watched the spectacle unfold.

Castiel was already paling, but he knew he had to help Sam, and the only way he could ensure that was by giving Sam an edge. Even if he couldn't make it out alive... Sam still had a chance. He held his arm out and slid the blade over his wrist, cutting deeply as he offered it to his lover. "Give... Give them hell." The angel breathed, trying to offer a tiny apologetic smile, as shock made him tremble. The fight was over for Castiel.

Everything was going to Hell, absolutely everything, and as Sam tried to block out everything the demon was saying with Dean's voice, as he watched Castiel giving up, he thought that maybe it was best this way. Maybe he could take out all the demons, and Cas, Dean, and he would finally be allowed to die, to rest. Together.

So he didn't look into Castiel's eyes as he bent forward and started sucking in his blood, just placed a loving hand on his neck and gave a gentle squeeze.

Even with how much Grace had already hemorrhaged from Castiel, his blood still held a tremendous charge for Sam, washing over him like a riptide. When he let go of Castiel's limp arm and opened his eyes, his eyes glowed a bright blue from the dangerous levels of Grace inside him.

When he moved it was far too fast for the human eye to track, even difficult for the Fallen to catch, as he seemingly appeared next to Forcas. He twisted the angel's neck and while jamming the angel blade into his heart. "That's for Cas, you son of a bitch." Twisting the blade, he threw the Fallen to the ground, glad to be rid of him.

Just as he was about to charge Dean to set his brother free, he found he was suddenly held in place.

"Now Sam, I appreciate you're angry, but that's really no way to go about treating others. If you make me angry, I might not kill your brother at all, I might just let Surgat continue riding in him, and I doubt you'd want that, hmmm?" Pharzuph said as she appeared in the room, a smile a mile wide splitting her face.

Castiel had shuddered as Sam took his blood, no longer having the grace to heal his injuries. When Sam let go of his arm, it fell to his stomach. Blue eyes watched the younger Winchester silently as Jimmy Novak's body struggled to keep breathing, to keep living, but Castiel was so tired. He just wanted to let it end. He hoped this time he wouldn't ever wake up again. Still he watched as Sam killed Forcas in an instant, and he watched as Sam turned to face Dean. So many conversations and memories flickered through his mind, so many smiles and laughs. Happier times, brief but shining, in the angel's long long life. The angel's wings fluttered weakly, nearly completely blackened by now, and growing darker minute by minute.

His eyes settled on Pharzuph as she appeared, and Castiel knew then that all was lost. Even with his grace, Sam could not rival her power. She was old, her caches of energy drawn from thousands of years of doing what she had done best. His heart broke then, beyond repair, and his eyes drifted to Dean, though things were becoming hazier and more fuzzy.

"Oh please, let me keep him." The demon whispered as he sidled up to the beautiful Fallen, wrapping his arms around her with a soft sigh, kissing her shoulder gently. "Winchester is all the rage this season, and such a beautiful face..." he purred, as he nuzzled her neck.

Sam could sense that Castiel was slipping away, even without their mental link, and he closed his eyes against the sting of tears. Now was not the time to mourn, not the time to cry.

"I could save him." Pharzuph said, seemingly ignoring Surgat somewhat playful question. "I can save Castiel, Sam, and I can heal your brother as well. All you have to do is..."

"Say yes?" Sam asked with tired resignation.

"That's all."

If Sam said yes, wouldn't he be dooming Earth to round two of the apocalypse? Wouldn't he be playing directly into the hand that fate had dealt him? But he had beaten Lucifer once, couldn't he do it again? And if he denied them, they would let Castiel die, and Dean would remain a puppet forever, likely to torture him until his sanity was gone and he said yes anyways.

So the question wasn't if he would say yes, but when.

Dean rebelled then, came screaming to the surface with all the strength he had earned over his life, and his arms tightened around the Fallen. For a moment, a few seconds, Surgat was crushed down by Dean's pure strength of will, after everything, still, after everything, rooting for his little brother.

"Don't you d--dare Sammy. Don't even think about ---" His mouth snapped shut as he was violent dragged back under, and Surgat hissed in irritation, his eyes narrowing. "What an unpleasant way to treat a guest." He muttered, chastising Dean aloud and unwinding his arms from around her. Clearing his throat and sauntering slowly to the dying angel, he stared down hungrily at Castiel as he circled the paling, fluttering creature. Leaning down, he plucked up Castiel's sword and twirled it a few times before looking back at Sam.

Dropping to one knee, he took a rough handful of Castiel's hair and hauled the angel up against him, linking his arms around the angel's middle and letting the angel's head fall limply against his shoulder. He turned his gaze to Sam, his smile honeyed, sickeningly sweet.

Castiel's lips parted, and his fingers flexed, but his eyes were no longer focused on anything as a creature who was not his friend cradled him and his final minutes began to slowly run off the clock.

Sam cursed the fact that his regeneration only worked on himself, wishing so ardently that he could do something, anything that would make them all come out of this alive. As he watched Dean struggle to continue fighting, only to be shoved back down again, he remembered the endless Tuesdays he'd spent watching Dean die, and he knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't live to watch Dean die again, not if there was something he could do to stop it.

Turning to face the Fallen, hands itching to wrap around her neck, he called out, "How do I know you'll honor that? How do I know the minute I say yes, you won't kill them both?"

Pharzuph sauntered towards him, hips swaying in a way that was both comely and predatory. "Because, I'm still an angel, and we tend to keep our promises. And besides that, if you're sacrificing all this to save them, I doubt Lucifer would be very happy with me if I went and broke that agreement."

"Something tells me Lucifer wouldn't be happy that you're forcing my hand like this." Sam remembered Zachariah and the lengths Heaven had been willing to go to start the apocalypse, and how Lucifer had never once threatened or cajoled him. It would seem that Hell played about as fair as Heaven ever had.

"He'll understand..." She sounded confident, but it was effected.

All he could hope for was that Lucifer would be angered enough by his followers' actions, that he killed them all, a last little revenge he could hope for.

Looking straight into Dean's eyes, he whispered, "Then alright, yes."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam says yes and Castiel bargains for an alternate ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the update so late in the day, been terribly busy today.

There was no flicker of Dean in those green eyes as Surgat hissed triumphantly, along with the few remaining demons in the room. Their lord and master would have his vessel, and everything they'd fought for, all their perfectly laid plans would come to fruition. He only hoped that Pharzuph had worded her offers as she did on purpose. He'd noticed she'd promised to heal this body, but a promise to release it? She had spoke no such words. He didn't want to lose this vessel. He really didn't.

Shifting slowly, he lifted the dying angel in his arms, bridal style, and carried the limp body easily to his mistress, positively beaming with the pride of a job he felt was well done.

He wanted to taunt Sam further, to give him glimpses of Dean's shattering psyche, but he dare not risk upsetting the younger Winchester until their lord was safely seated. He was a sadist, but he wasn't stupid.

Pharzuph looked up, something beyond Sam's range of perception grabbing her attention. "Ah, Death has released Lucifer."

Sam had a very bad feeling about all of this, but he knew there was no other way to save the two people he cared for, and even still, this was a terrible plan.

The light filtering through the water brightened, being engulfed in the pure, white light that began to suffuse the room. Sam remembered this light. Lucifer without a vessel was a terrible and awesome thing to behold, his trueform so beyond description that Sam's mind began tearing at itself, trying to do anything but see the angel. He could catch glimpses of features, a horn here, a wing there, but the whole was simply too far beyond Sam's mind to process.

With a gentle chill, the light wrapped around Sam, almost protectively, and he could feel the raw energy of Lucifer probing to see if he was injured. As high as Sam was off Castiel's blood, he almost thought that there was concern in Lucifer's inspection of him.

This was it, with one last glance at Dean and Castiel, a long look where he memorized every single feature of the two of them, he closed his eyes and embraced his inescapable destiny. "... Yes."

Castiel was no longer aware of his surroundings, his clothes stained with his own blood as his life ebbed away, while the demon inside Dean was grinning almost maniacally as he felt his lord's energy in the room. Truly it was a wondrous thing to behold. He felt honored to have been a part of it, placing Lucifer back where he belonged.

He was holding a dying angel in his arms, or a dead angel, he could no longer tell at this point. The rise and fall of Castiel's chest had finally stopped. Surgat bounced in delight to hear Dean's frantic screaming, to feel the hunter beat and tear at the chains in his own mind. It was so satisfying, so utterly unreal to experience the Winchester falling apart from the inside. Dean's screams would fuel his fantasies for years, if he was still forced to give up the body.

He cast a smug glance at his mistress, all but purring as he turned his eyes back to Sam, watching every moment with the wide-eyed wonder of a child.

Dropping the angel's body unceremoniously, he bowed low at the waist, biting his bottom lip. "Welcome back, my Lord."

Lucifer flexed Sam's arm, curling fingers into a fist and then shaking it out. It was amazing to be back in his vessel, to be free of the Cage, but he easily saw through Sam's memories the way in which Sam's acquiescence was acquired, and it enraged him.

"Oh Sam, I know you probably won't believe me just now, but I don't condone their actions for a moment. They really should have known that I didn't want to ever force you into saying yes." Lucifer said, looking down at Sam's hands as he felt the human railing inside his mind. "So how about this, I'll make good on their promise, but I'll go one better."

Sam stilled for a moment. What do you mean?

"I'll heal Castiel and your brother, but I'll exorcise the demon from him. Does that sound like a square deal? If you want, we could blow off a little steam by killing more of these traitors who would force you into this." Lucifer said with Sam's body, so very similar and alien at the same time.

Set my brother free... It wasn't a command, but it also wasn't a request. It was as if Sam knew implicitly that he could trust Lucifer at his word.

Turning, Lucifer faced Dean, eyes flashing, "Well, you heard him, you're history."

Surgat blinked in apparent confusion  as he listened to the exchange between his Master and the vessel, confused by the words spoken. Dean's brows came together as Surgat swallowed, and took a step forward, holding up placating hands. He couldn't understand at all why Lucifer would offer to kill them after they had worked so hard. Who cared why the mortal had said yes? Why would Lucifer care for a vessel that was meant to be used?

Half of him was livid, but the other half was frightened, and he glanced at the remaining living Fallen in the room, not quite understanding. He wondered if she did.

It didn't matter, there would be no discussion, and balking would only get him killed more quickly. This he understood intrinsically.

"Master please. I will leave," he whispered in a small voice, before doing just that. Dean's head tipped back, and his body went rigid as the inky black smoke began to pour out of his mouth as the demon exited in a billowing wave.

The injured hunter fell to his knees in exhaustion and pitched forward, pressing his forehead to ground brokenly.

"Shoulda just killed me," he finally managed to bite out. "Cas is dead already."

Lucifer let Surgat leave, watching the demon dissipate with thinly veiled loathing. But then he turned his attention over to Dean and Castiel. "Kill you? Why would I do that when Sam fought so hard to save you?" He moved forward, controlling Sam's body with a grace that the man could never have achieved on his own. "Now, how about you let me work a little miracle?" Placing two fingers on Dean's head, he healed the man of all his wounds and ailments, present and past.

Dean clenched his eyes closed, hating everything. The pain, the broken fingers, the failure. The angel who had given his life to save them both, but had ended up failing again. His lips drew tight as he gave a soft huff, almost half sob as he listened to Sam-- Lucifer approach. Abruptly the pain was gone, and he hated that too. "Go back to hell. There's no reason to heal either of us. Do you hear that Sammy? He's just going to do what he did before. Wipe out everyone on the Earth, including us. You're a fucking idiot Sam," he called angrily, even as Castiel was drawn into the vessel's arms.

With Castiel in Sam’s arms, Lucifer sighed, "Now for the hard part." Placing a hand on the seraph's forehead, he closed his eyes and focused, reaching out with his Grace to gather Castiel's spirit before it was snatched away by a reaper. Sure enough, the spunky angel had remained near his body, even after death, so Lucifer placed him back inside his vessel and infused him with fresh Grace, replacing what Sam had taken over the past few weeks.

"Rise and shine, Castiel."

Castiel's body was limp and lifeless, but his soul was begging his reaper to show up now, to take him before he could be put back in that cage of a body. He fought as Lucifer pulled him, begging instead for peace, for release.

He gasped as he woke in his brother's arms, looking up into Sam's eyes and knowing Lucifer was behind them. Six blackened wings twisted under him as he tried to sit up, and though he did not lack the physical strength, he did lack the emotional. He had failed, and failed desperately, and he gripped at Lucifer's wrist hard as he trembled and searched the eyes for any sign of his lover.

"Why? You should have let me stay dead. I don't want to be here," he said softly, shaking his head.

Sam cringed at Dean and Castiel's words, feeling as if he'd somehow taken the easy way out. He'd done this to save both of them, but once again, it seemed to be a mistake. Castiel didn't want to be saved and Dean would resent him for this. The portion of Sam that had always known, always been assured of the fact that he wasn't one of them, silently mourned that it was right.

His brother would only hate him more after this, and part of him thought maybe it was time to just let him go, to stop apologizing for everything he did and everything he was. There was only so many times that he could have these same arguments over and over again before he was numb from the pain and deaf to Dean's words. So he retreated far into Lucifer's Grace, sinking into an ocean of light where everything was numbingly cold and nothing hurt any more.

In fact, if he had of been willing to admit it, Sam would have said he felt whole inside that Grace.

"We don't always get what we want, Castiel." Lucifer said with a deep sorrow in his eyes, an understanding of the pain Castiel felt, but not the hopelessness. "Sam gave himself up in exchange for your and Dean's safety. I wouldn't be living up to my promises if I didn't bring you back."

Castiel studied the expression on Lucifer's face, not sure whether or not to believe the deep sadness in them. "I can't believe that you care for promises," he returned softly. Why would Lucifer care to appease his vessel, it didn't make sense.

"Shut the hell up Cas. This is partly your fault." Dean snarled, finally looking up at the pair of angels and straightening on his knees. "If you hadn't... seduced him, he might be fucking free right now." His eyes turned up to Lucifer, hateful and disgusted as Castiel visibly flinched from the his words.

Slowly, almost tentatively, the angel reached out with his renewed grace, trying hard to find and bond with Sam, to see if the hunter was still there, still conscious. He found nothing, and he felt as if his heart had been shredded. He felt as if Sam was completely lost to him. It was his fault.

Castiel trembled and simply lie in Lucifer's arms for several more seconds before disappearing, flickering by Dean and all but fleeing the area. It was all he could do. He could no longer feel Sam buried in Lucifer's psyche. The only option left to him was to take the remaining Winchester and find somewhere safe. Secreting them far out in the middle of a desert somewhere, Castiel and Dean both dropped to their knees as sand rolled down the large dunes.

Lucifer stood after Castiel had left with Dean, and he focused his attentions inward to Sam. His Grace wrapped around Sam's Soul with tender care, infusing it with a love far different, far colder, and far more expansive than Castiel had ever had. "Sam... this doesn't have to be a bad thing. I can't believe the Fallen would sink to such tactics, and had I known..."  But there was no way he could have, trapped in the Cage as he had been. "Tell me what you want and you'll have it Sam, anything within my power to give you."

And his next words were dark, possessive, and so hauntingly sincere, "I want you to be happy, Sam. I need to know that I can make you happy."

Sam hated that he curled into Lucifer's Grace, hated that it felt like coming home. He couldn't remember what it had felt like when he'd joined with Lucifer the last time, nothing beyond his initial rage and indignation at being a tool, a vessel for Lucifer's destruction. Now he thought he understood why he hadn't remembered this, because there were no words to describe the love that was washing over him, pouring into him, surrounding and supporting him. But even more than that, with a sudden surety, he knew that the false memories he’d been given had been implanted, to cover up this love. To make him not want to return to it.

It wasn't a pure love like Castiel’s had been, and it wasn't gentle like Jess’. It was an ancient love, harbored over the centuries, half expectant, half crazed, and endlessly patient; and his Soul longed to return some measure of that love, even as his mind fought against it all.

"Would you like to get revenge on Pharzuph? Or Surgat, the demon who was inside your brother? We could make them pay for what they did to you, how they used you." And new emotions were there as Lucifer imagined their conquest, how they would move as one and right the injustices done to both of them. Even more than that, there was that possessive need to protect Sam, to treasure him.

Sam didn't think he'd be able to resist that for long. So he simply nodded, letting his blood lust consume them both. He wanted to see the Fallen and the demon pay for what they had done, for how they had pulled his only family even farther away from him.

Lucifer smiled with Sam's face, eyes dancing with cold fire. "Well then, let's go pay them a visit.

 

* * *

 

Dean's fingers curled into the warm sand in an effort to ground himself, to focus his mind on some tiny detail that didn't scream his brother's name. Sam had said yes to that bastard again, and he knew it was unreasonable to hold it against him, but he couldn't help it. He'd never said yes to Michael, not even when both of their lives had been threatened, because he knew that neither Michael nor Lucifer were the good guys, neither of them would give a rat's ass about the Earth and the people it contained. They were both their own free radicals, charging for each other at the speed of light.

But Sam had said yes again.

To save him.

To save Castiel.

Dean vomited then, his tired body expunging the taint of the demon, fighting in vain to purge the memories as well as the sensations.

The damn forces of Hell had used him to get to Sam, had reeled him in hook, line, and sinker. So yeah, he could be angry all he wanted with Sam, but no where near as angry as he was with himself.

Castiel turn to find Dean being sick, and though he knew in part that Dean blamed him for what Sam had done, the angel turned and crawled to the friend he had fought his way through Purgatory with. Blue eyes were haunted and sad as he reached out, offering Dean the same physical comfort he had always offered Sam after unlocking memories, feeling nauseous himself. Sam was gone, the earth was doomed, and every human life on it would be extinguished.

Why Sam had felt the need to bring them back, to make them witness it, he had no idea, it would have been kinder to let them both die.

He set a hand on the Dean's shoulder, trench coat flapping around him in the wind on top of the dune, squeezing the muscle gently as he fought his own despair and shame. God was gone. Death was bound, they were out of options.

"Dean," he finally croaked, chapped lips parting. "I... I'm sorry." he breathed.

Dean wanted to push the angel away from him, but he had to wait for his body to cooperate, to stop the dry heaves and the shivering and listen to him. He didn't want to be comforted, didn't want to hear apologies, or any of it. All he wanted was a way to take back the past few hours, to have called Sam at least once, to have stayed with him so he wouldn't get in trouble.

He'd thought he'd wanted to be free of the burden that Sam was.

Now he realized that the guilt he'd carry, always had carried, when Sam messed up was far worse than the aggravation of living with him.

He'd abandoned Sammy.

He'd thought he'd been right to.

"Get... get off me Cas." Dean finally managed to say, hating how weak he sounded. Hating everything.

Castiel hurt terribly, knowing that his lover was lost to him, that he'd abandoned Sam the past few weeks to avoid breaching the subject of his blood again, and to have his best friend, Dean, push him away too, well, it did no wonders for the angel. Pulling his hand away, and putting it down, watching it sink into the ever shifting sand, he wishes he could do the same. Burying himself completely and suffocate under the weight and the heat of the sand sounded preferable to just about everything else right now.

"Dean... I.." What else could he say? What else could they do? He felt as if he'd had his world torn asunder, and the guilt rolling off of Dean was almost palpable.

"Perhaps there is still a way to... " he started softly, wishing he could inject some hope into his words as he found them rehearsed and stiff.

Dean drew in a sharp breath and spun around, vertigo making him stumble in the sand. "Dammit Cas! To do what? To save Sam? We can't do anything. Remember last time? You got turned into confetti and I was beaten senseless." Sand shifted under his feet, legs, and hands, trailing down the leeward side of the dune. "If you've got some amazing plan to get Sam back, be my guest, I'm all ears. Really."

He stood up slowly, body weak and clammy, phantom fingers of demonic energy running through his mind. Even with how little he believed they'd be able to save Sam, he knew he'd have to try. He couldn't abandon Sammy to this, wouldn't abandon him. Maybe he would need Castiel, maybe he wouldn't, but right now he didn't want to look at the angel, not after everything the demon had told him.

The dark haired brunette silenced himself, taking a small breath as Dean let loose on him, pursing his lips and knowing that he deserved it. He closed his eyes against the memories of that day, trembling as he spread his wings for balance and straightened. "I don't.. I don't know, but there has to be something..." There wasn't something, there wasn't anything. Michael had not been allowed out of the cage, and Lucifer would remain unchecked.

No one should have to learn about things from a demon, which reminded him. Spinning around, Dean focused his directionless rage on Castiel. "And is it true? You let Sam start drinking your blood, even knowing how he'd been addicted to demon blood?"

Watching as Dean rose, he wanted to reach out, to steady the Winchester, to offer him strength and support. But physically, he knew Dean would not accept it. So he did what he hoped Dean would not hate him for, or would, at least forgive him for, and reached out, wrapping his grace up in Dean's energy, pouring what love and devotion he had left into the bond, hoping Dean could see that his intention and love had always been pure, true.

Castiel’s voice was weak and defeated as Dean fixed him with a glare that could quite possibly peel paint off the walls. "I... I didn't mean too. When we were intimate, he bit me sometimes... I thought.. I thought he was simply being rough. It took me too long to realize that he was... drinking on purpose," he mumbled, casting his eyes downward shamefully.

"TMI there, Cas." The last thing Dean needed right now was to be reminded that his brother had been banging their angel, but at least it told him that Castiel hadn't offered the blood like Ruby had done. So maybe he was telling the truth, maybe he hadn't gotten Sam addicted so he would stay.

Sighing, Dean looked up at the clear blue sky that stretched for miles over the desert, and he didn't know why, but something inside him felt better. He wasn't sensitive to Grace and all the psychic crap that Sam was, so he didn't understand that Castiel was doing what he could to comfort him, but he benefited from it all the same. Somewhat calmer, he looked back to Castiel, "I can't leave him like that, Cas. I thought I would be alright leaving him, letting him do his own thing, but it's been Hell. I couldn't let him die alone last time, and I certainly won't let it happen this time."

Maybe this would all be too little too late, and maybe he should have killed Sam himself years ago like their father had told him to. That might have been kinder, to hold Sam as the life went out of his eyes before he'd had to live through so much darkness. It wasn't like Sam could make a good decision, ever, so maybe that would have been the right thing to do.

Castiel blinked, before remembering what TMI meant and then looked down, licking his bottom lip and closing his eyes. He could feel the relief from Dean, when the man realized that he had never intentionally manipulated the younger Winchester, and that bolstered his spirits slightly.

His grace and determination was helping Dean, and he could feel the man growing calmer, even if the pain was still there, and the guilt was still there. "He isn't going to die.." The angel said softly, trying to be optimistic for once, instead of laying out everything exactly as he saw it. "We... could.. I.. I'll find something. I'll tear Heaven apart again if I have to." he promised, though he was already lying

"Dean.. Just.. give me time.. " he breathed, needing to find some salvation or forgiveness, needing to feel useful. He asked too much. He always asked for too much.

Dean was silent for a long time before he finally responded. "Yeah, ok. Not like there's much I could do right now anyways." He could go and try to reach out to Sam, try to get his brother back, but then what? Ask Sam to jump into the Cage again? Nothing about this scenario sounded great

"Just make sure you find something, Cas, because Sam deserves better than to spend the rest of his life as the devil's prom dress." Castiel nodded slowly, looking Dean over quietly before reaching out to touch the Winchester's shoulder. It didn't take more than a second for him to place Dean in a beautiful, empty cabin in the deep woods, somewhere in Canada, a peaceful place for him to spend a little time while the searched. He'd been there with Sam once before, after doing research for places to see.  They'd spent three days there, simply wrapped up in each other before moving on. Dean didn't need to know that

"I'll be back." he promised softly, taking a deep breath before he was gone again

Dean looked around the cabin after Castiel had left and found that the refrigerator was stocked and there was power and heat. So it was better than about 80% of the cabins he'd ever crashed at. However when he went outside and saw the snow banks and the empty driveway where he'd hoped to find Baby, he closed his eyes and sighed. "Son of a bitch...

 

* * *

 

Spreading his grace out, Castiel cast tentative lines until he could feel the energy and power surrounding Lucifer

Another second, and the soft flutter of wings heralded his arrival, his eyes already locked on the body he had spent so much time memorizing. The ache in his chest was smeared across his face, and as he took a step forward, he bowed his head. What he was doing was disgusting and he felt dirty, but he could not let Dean believe he had failed, he could not lose the only thing he had left

It was a risk to show up here, but the angel's voice was calm as he simply asked for a moment. "Lucifer?"

Lucifer was wiping the blood off his vessel's arm, the last evidence of the fun he and Sam had had with some of the demons present earlier. It wasn't as rewarding as tearing apart Pharzuph would be, but they had agreed to let her wait a while, stewing in her own fear and second guessings. He felt Castiel searching for him, but continued with wiping the blood off, partially for the effect it would have

"Ah, Castiel. What brings you back so soon?" He asked with his reserved, cordial nature

Inside, Sam rippled with emotions, but largely it was only guilt over bringing Castiel back when he apparently no longer wanted to live. He had thought, hoped, that the time they had spent together had given back some of Castiel's lust for life. Apparently, he was wrong.

The angel watched quietly as Lucifer cleaned blood off his arm, Sam's arm, and swallowed, but showed no fear. Now was not the time for meek trembling. He searched those hazel eyes endlessly, hoping for some kind of sign, some kind of recognition of his lover behind those cool clean orbs. He found none, of course for Lucifer was in complete command.

"I wanted to speak to Sam."

Lucifer shifted his weight, pose wide and assured, as he looked at Castiel, a spike of jealous possessiveness shooting through him. After how long he had waited for Sam, he wanted to keep him for himself, enjoy him, protect him, all the things he could never do from inside the Cage. However, he would deny Sam nothing within his power, so when he felt Sam trying to rise up, he nodded. There was a silent warning in his eyes before he relented control to Sam

"Cas..." Sam's voice completely changed when Lucifer was not in control of it, for it lost the natural born confidence and persuasion that Lucifer lent it. Instead it was Sam, self-doubting and warm and lost

However Lucifer was not sure he trusted the young angel, so he remained obvious in the stance of Sam's body, in the slope of his shoulders, and the strength in his spine. If Castiel tried anything, he would not hesitate to defend what was his; and yet he was not going out of his way to kill Castiel either. Everyone attributed chaos and wanton killing to him, but that simply wasn't true. He never killed his once-brethren unless they forced his hand, unless they actively stood against him.

Cas wasn't sure what he expected to get out of his request, if anything, but his surprised was obvious as Lucifer's voice changed into Sam's. He might have been afraid that his brother was trying to fool him, but he could feel Sam there, so close and yet so far. The angel stepped forward hesitantly at first, and then closed the distance between them in a few long strides, not knowing how much time he would be allowed, or how much he could say.

Reaching up to cup both of Sam's cheeks with his hands, the angel rose on his tiptoes and pressed his lips hard to Sam's, trying to convey every bit of emotion he could in a pure physical touch. He wanted their bond back, he wanted to feel Sam's essence again, but the guarded energy from Lucifer told him clearly that such an action would not be well tolerated. He poured himself into the kiss, though it wasn't deep or sexual. It was simply longing, a need for Sam to know how he felt, how he would always feel, that no matter what separated them, he didn't hate Sam, couldn't whether the younger brother had brought him back against his will or not

He had to stay on his toes to press his forehead to Sam's, closing his eyes tightly as he broke again, fingers trembling against the strong jawline

"I love you, Sam. I... just... need you to know that." he breathed. "I've never loved anyone as much as I have you. Not even God," his voice was hoarse, slightly broken, and very small, a confession that was blasphemous and dangerous.

Sam listened quietly to Castiel's confession, his heart breaking over their significance. There was nothing he felt he could say to that, to hear the weight of importance that Castiel considered towards him. So he wrapped his arms around Castiel and held him close, silently thanking Lucifer that he would let them have this moment. "I don't deserve it, but thank you, Cas. Thank you.

As he held onto Castiel, he could feel Lucifer reliving the memories of their time together, learning what their love had been, what had broken them apart such that they both needed this reassurance. Their love was different from Lucifer's, both in nature and scope. Then Lucifer reached out Grace from inside Sam and tangled it into Castiel, the antediluvian angel reaching into Castiel almost as gently as he had with Sam

Castiel. I've said it before, but my offer is still open. Join us, you won't have to be alone any longer. Sam still wants you, and I can be a Host for you, replacement for the angelic communion denied you with your fall from Heaven. There's no reason for you to fight me, to fight us, any longer. Haven't you seen the humans, what they do, what they continue to do? Sam here, he's the exception, not the rule. Lucifer said without words, thought and touch and sound all at once. His Grace was effulgent as it poured forth from within Sam, their two essences merged seamlessly.

Castiel found himself losing ground as Sam's arms came about him, and each breath made it feel as if a knife were being driven into his heart. Sam didn't offer him any such reassurance, but Castiel tried to believe it anyway, fought desperately to believe that Sam still loved him, even if he'd had to leave him weeks ago. He wanted to believe that Sam understood why he had to do it. That he was frightened, not trying to punish the man. He wanted to believe all these things, but there was a darkness inside that told him that it wasn't true, that Sam hated him, and would always hate him for everything. The blood, failing Dean, bringing them there this night.

The connection that was forged then wasn't from Sam, not completely, and Castiel trembled as Lucifer infiltrated his mind and body with tendrils of grace that were incredibly powerful. He kept his eyes closed, but dropped his hands to Sam's shoulders quietly, fingers curling tight in the fabric, lost in the presence of his brother.

There are others like him. All over the world. They fight for what is right and good. They love others as deeply as you loved our father. They fight to take care of this planet. he said softly back. Yes, They are few, but... That can't mean everyone deserves to die. There is hope for humanity Lucifer. Our father saw it.

No, there isn't. You're looking at their actions, but ignoring their hearts, their innermost desires and motivations.

Sam leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on Castiel's forehead. With Lucifer's Grace connecting with Castiel, Sam could hear everything they were saying, could feel Castiel's emotions even stronger than when they had formed their own link, and his heart broke with the lies Castiel fought against, all those insecurities. "Cas..."

He wanted to speak the words that Castiel needed to hear, simple reassurances and promises that had come so easily in their time together, but the words wouldn't come now. Lucifer had showed him, forced him to be honest with himself, and he had realized that he loved everything about Castiel, loved his presence and his strength, his servant heart and soldier's nature, but he didn't love Castiel. It was as if his love had been a hurricane where Castiel had stood directly in the eye of the storm.

But he knew the power of words, such simple words. "Cas, I could never hate you. So please, don't blame yourself. I'll always love you."

Love everything about you.

Castiel stared up at them both, his eyes wide. He knew from the short time on earth himself that there were good, decent people in the world, knew it with every fiber of his being and his bones, there were two in the Winchester family, surely the odds for others weren't impossible. His fingers tightened as Sam held him closer, and the angel knew that the words Sam spoke were not the truth. It was a lie that meant well, but the angel felt himself crumble a little more.

It was his curse that he had never felt before. It was his curse to believe most emotions were true. He had felt Sam's love so strongly while they were together, he had been certain that his own was returned. But now, with Lucifer opening a connection that was several times more expensive than Castiel could have, the angel was privy to their combined thoughts and emotions, while they, in turn were privy to his. It was simultaneously the single most intimate thing Castiel had experienced and the most terrifying thing he had ever felt. The truth was bared for him, and the angel felt like he might as well be turning to dust.  

Aching, the angel studied them both, knowing that nothing he said could stop the apocalypse. Nothing he did could stop the purging. Sam didn't love him, and neither did his brother. God had abandoned the humans, and Dean hated him.

Slowly, heartbroken, he tried to pull his grace from Lucifer's, unable to handle the truth in a manner that would be considered healthy. He closed himself off, wrapped himself up in his wings, though to any normal creature he still appeared to simply be standing. Blue eyes fell to the ground again, and though he had no right to ask, he did anyway.

"One lifetime, please. One lifetime. Give Sam and Dean the rest of their natural lives. Let them spend it together, as they were meant to. Don't abandon Dean, Sam. Let him believe he's done the right thing. Let him retire without feeling guilty. Please. Please. " Slowly, the angel dropped to his knees, bowing his head. He couldn't fight anymore, begging was all that he had left.

"Please don't purge the earth, yet, Lucifer. You are endlessly patient, surely a few more years... is nothing to you. Let them have this time together, and I will give you everything that I am after." he pleaded. "I will do whatever you ask of me. They've both fought so hard," he choked out, putting his palms flat on the floor and pressing his forehead to it. The angel who had once stood strong and unwavering trembled on the floor as he explored the only option left to him. It was a pitiable site.

Lucifer stroked a gentle caress over Castiel's grace, his own frigid and so alien, unaccustomed to comfort. And force Sam to watch Dean age and die? Even if I had not been released, Castiel, Sam would have outlived Dean. Would you ask that of him? Then he pulled back, respecting Castiel's distance.

"Cas..." Sam had felt Castiel's disillusionment and his pain, and he couldn't help but feel guilty, feel as if another thing was suddenly his fault.

However, you are right, I am patient. You want me to wait until Dean dies? I could do that. Both Lucifer and Sam had come to the agreement that Dean wouldn't appreciate being saved again, wouldn't want to be kept alive after everyone else had died; and for Lucifer this request was a Heaven send because Sam had been distraught over the fate of his brother.

Castiel kept his forehead down, refusing to look at the man he loved, the human who did not love him. He felt physically ill, which was rare for an angel, even if a heartsick angel was was rarer, and he trembled in submission, fingers still splayed over the bloodied floor.

"I don't ask that of him." he croaked. "I beg that of him." He didn't look up, didn't smile, didn't breathe beyond what he had to.

"Dean... He... He'll.. Sam.. He is going to age and die without you, and you will spend eternity with Lucifer beyond that. Your brother must mean more than to you than for you simply to turn your back out of fear. You can control what he sees, you can age with him too, if it causes him pain. You can't want to spend forever without spending every moment you can with him, if not me." Castiel's voice broke, and for the second time in his existence, the angel had reached a point where tears rolled down his cheeks again, hot and wet. However this time they were the true tears of an angel, blood staining his cheeks and blurring his vision.

"Please. I can take away his memory of today," he whispered, though he wondered if his efforts were futile. "He would want you to be there."

Sam turned away, pain racing through him at the thought of Dean, living on, misunderstanding why he had said yes. And what if Castiel did take away Dean's memories? Wouldn't that be just another lie that he would have to reinforce every single day of his brother's life? He had done this to save them, both of them, but he realized that they would never understand that.

Nor would they understand that Lucifer was not the great tyrant to him that they had expected. The angel loved him, so completely and utterly that Sam knew of no word in any language that could encompass it.

So as Sam contemplated returning to Dean, the love of his brother which had always kept him sane, kept him relatively 'normal', it paled in comparison with what he had right now. And he could feel Lucifer's Grace wrapping tighter around him, daring the world, fate, God, anyone, to take Sam away from him a second time.

"No..." He uttered, in a whisper. "No Cas. I can't... I won't." Maybe he had done wrong by them, and maybe he hadn't. All he knew is that he'd brought Castiel back from the dead and he'd resented him for it, and then he'd realized that he didn't love Castiel the same way that the angel love him, and that had broken Castiel completely.

What good could ever come from him?

"I can't go back with you."

We don't have to kill your brother, you know; and now that I have you, I don't mind waiting one insignificant human lifetime to finally purge this planet and show my Father... To show his Father that he was right, that humans were born into sin and in sin they remained. That while Lucifer had none of the traits that God had esteemed, he had his own laudable traits.

Sam turned back to look at Castiel, "But I'll let you stay with Dean for the rest of his natural life. I won't deny Dean his hard earned peace, just because I was too weak to say no." Let them hear what they wanted to hear, what were lies on his motivation on top of all his other sins?

Castiel was frozen in place, whether by his will, or simply a lack of it, he didn't know, but he waited, he simply waited for Sam's answer, begging with all that was in him that Sam would say yes, that he and Dean could spend at least a few years together, without the madness of hunting to drive them apart. They were family, they always would be. They needed one another in the same way that Castiel needed his host. Without his angelic brothers and sisters, he had been indescribably lonely, until Sam... He had been a lamb, separated from his flock, forgotten by his shepard. He couldn't bear to see Dean live like that, even if Sam was not truly, completely Sam.

The angel felt an invisible blade twist in his heart when he heard the answer, and more tears slid down his cheeks, warming his face, even as his heart chilled. Cas could understand, completely, why Sam said no. It was the same reason he stayed out of heaven, the same reason he couldn't bring himself to go back.

Three pairs of ebony wings sagged, drooping to the ground around him like a heavy blanket as he gathered his thoughts. Taking a shivering breath, realizing that there was nothing left to be done, nothing more he could say, the ragged angel finally pulled his feet under him, standing as a zombie might. His eyes lifted to Sam, to Lucifer, as he was still given permission to stay with Dean, and he simply nodded once, a single dip of his head.

"I'll return to pay for this when his time runs out," he breathed softly, promising his eternal fealty for a few precious years of peace for a single mortal.

Without waiting, he was gone in a flutter of wings, returning to the cabin where he'd left his friend, his heart and shoulders heavy.

Sam stood there for a long moment, letting the feeling of Lucifer wrapping around his Soul ease the pain in his heart. He would never see Dean again, or at least, never let Dean see him again. He would never spend another night in Castiel's embrace. He would never ride in the passenger seat of the Impala listening to music he knew by heart and secretly enjoyed again.

Finally Lucifer slipped back into his limbs and wrapped Sam's arms around himself, and somehow it wasn't as depressing as he'd imagined hugging himself might feel. No, wrapped in the arms of his own body and surrounded by the Grace of the Morningstar, pariah of Heaven, he felt perfectly in tune with his angel. They had both done what they had felt was right, made sacrifices, and been condemned for it. They were parallels in every sense.

And when Sam spoke, it was Lucifer's words. "Now Sam, let me show you the splendor of your world, far away from the things of man."

Six wings spread from his back then, ethereal feathers that cracked like lightning and burned like a sun, but cold as the depths of space. Then they were gone, two lost souls who had found each other against all odds, paying unimaginable costs to find something more.

 


	14. In My Dreams You Are Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is gone and Dean has to cope with the absence; and all the while Castiel is trying to live with the guilt that he has traded the horrible truth for a lie not so vicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize. I have had no free time to proofread this chapter, so please forgive any errors.

The first thing Castiel did was stop by Dean's car, the sleek black impala that he had felt so confined in at first, before it had grown to feel like home. He set his hand on the cool steel, gathering his energy to transport it to the long, long dirt driveway that led up to the quiet cabin on the mountains. He stood there for several moments longer, his eyes closed as he allowed himself to relive a few of the best memories made in the vehicle, letting the tears dry on his face, though his eyes remained swollen and red.

In an instant, the angel was inside, and Castiel wandered slowly through the house, trying to block out the memories of what he and Sam had done here, what things they had whispered during the long nights. He searched for Dean quietly, and paused in the doorway when he saw the hunter cleaning his guns, a habit he usually noticed when Dean was particularly stressed and didn't know how to handle it.

Slowly, he moved over, pausing to stand in front of Dean, looking him over with dull blue eyes. Reaching out, he simply tucked his fingers into the short golden strands at his temple for a moment. "Dean. I'm sorry." he breathed. "Forgive me. For everything."

Dean looked up as he heard Castiel's steps on the hardwood, something lost in his eyes. "Hey, we'll figure something out. There's no way I'm gonna let Sam be Lucifer's angel condom for the rest of his life. We just need to look into everything, right? Maybe there's a spell that can eject an angel from their vessel, or... I don't know, something."

He couldn't give up, couldn't let himself think that way. He'd lost Sam too many times, in too many little ways, to fail his baby brother now, when it really counted.

Fitting the pieces of the gun back together in record time, he held up the pistol and looked down the iron sights, closing one eye slowly. "We'll figure something out." And it was obvious that he was clinging to that mantra because he had no faith left in anything else.

The angel took a deep breath, still looking at the hunter with sad eyes, watching him put the gun down. Dean didn't know what he knew, held onto something, anything, just so he wouldn't have to believe that Sam was truly lost. But Sam was gone, and gone forever, and there was nothing an angel cast from Heaven could do about it. He slowly knelt in front of Dean, looking up at the mortal he had pulled from hell, had followed through purgatory, had died for again and again.

And then his fingers slid from Dean's forehead to his temple, Castiel using his grace to rewrite the last few hours in a way that would make Dean proud of his younger brother. Most of the memories stayed intact, though a few key ones had changed.

Now, Castiel hadn't been fatally wounded, he'd only been trapped. Now, Sam hadn't had to drink Castiel's blood to kill the Fallen. Now... Sam had said "No," instead. Now, Sam was dead, killed by the Fallen Pharzuph, quickly, painlessly, in a blind rage that her plan had failed. And Now, Pharzuph was dead, killed in turn by the Fallen Castiel. The demon Surgat, as far as Dean knew, had been exorcised by the angel, and all the information he had relayed to Dean about Sam drinking Castiel's blood, wiped from his mind.  

Castiel literally felt as if he was burning portions of his own soul to change the story so much, to keep so much from his friend, but it was the only way he knew that Dean could ever be happy, proud that his brother had not given in, proud that his brother had died a hero.

Drawing back his hand and cupping Dean's cheek, the angel murmured a lie that he knew would curse him forever.

"He's in Heaven, Dean. I made certain of it."

Dean felt a searing pain as the truth was robbed from his mind, his very soul crying out that he couldn't do this, couldn't believe these lies. But as is so often the case, the lies were preferable, they were gentler, kinder, safer. In the lies Sam hadn't betrayed everyone, remained resolute to the end. And as his memories were rewritten, he forgot even the pain, never noticing as a portion of his soul died with his brother's sacrifice, died in exchange for the comfort of a lie.

So he sat, dropping his head to his hands, in the absolute silence of the lonely cabin.

Sam was dead.

Being in Heaven was at least some consolation, but it was very minor with the knowledge that he never got to reconcile with Sam. He would never turn to the passenger's seat and bicker over asinine topics, speaking to fill the void with easy banter and heartfelt companionship.

That void might never be filled.

Not the way that Sam had.

And maybe he was glorifying their relationship now that Sam was dead, but it had been better than it had been bad, easy when they weren't butting heads. And for all of it, Dean wanted to believe that maybe Sam wouldn't stay dead, not after everything they'd been through, not with how many times they were brought back onto the board.

So he sat in the silence with his head in his hands and he held back tears knowing that he was the last Winchester. He'd outlived them all. He'd failed each and every single one of them.

Castiel knew Dean well enough to know by now that since Castiel had broken his trust, it was likely that Dean would push him away, hate him, refuse to speak to him, and refuse comfort, but the angel tried anyway, shifting to press his forehead to Dean's and cupping the back of his neck gently, all things he'd learned in his time with Sam, and as Emanuel. Dean still had the knowledge that he and Sam had been lovers, but he didn't know anything of their breakup, didn't know they had been separated by an addiction Sam could not control.

Castiel had lost so much and was so completely alone. The best he could do was make sure Dean wasn't alone. Or by himself. Wrapping Dean in his grace and pouring his sympathy into the mortal, the angel closed his eyes and tried not to drown in his own self loathing.

No good would come of it for Dean.

"You should rest," he murmured softly, knowing that Dean needed it. "He's at peace now. He's happy." The angel had no way of knowing that Sam was happy. He believed he was lying with all his heart. How could Sam want to be a Fallen's vessel?

"He..." The angel paused here, and licked his lips, adding another selfish lie on top of the rest. "He told me to tell you that you had better not hunt this for the rest of your life. He wants you to... Have a life beyond hunting." He had to chose his words carefully to make them sound plausible. "He made me swear to tell you."

Dean thought about pushing Castiel away, but he didn't have the strength, silently pouring himself out in mourning. The last thing he wanted to hear was Sam's final request, because that made it real, that meant his baby brother was never coming back.

"Cas... I just... could you give me five?" He pushed up from his seat, dropping the pistol to the table with a resounding thud, and walked off to one of the bedrooms. As he clicked the door closed behind him, he let out a shaky breath. He simply didn't want to cry in front of the angel. So in the solitude of an empty room, he sat on the edge of the bed and hung his head, tears burning in his eyes as they fell up his forehead and into his hair. Fitting, that his tears would never make it to the ground.

In a few minutes he'd fight to be professional, to put on some sort of a smile, and think about the future. But for this small moment in time, he needed to break, he needed to mourn what was and what would never be.

He needed Sammy, but that wasn't an option.

So he took the solitude and the darkness and tears in an abandoned cabin as meager recompense.

Castiel watched Dean, and didn't move as the hunter rose and walked away from him, quietly closing his eyes as he fought to hold back the overwhelming blackness that blanketed him. Nothing. He had nothing left. He had failed his lover. He had failed Dean. His brothers and sisters, his father? He was a black mark on all of them, his name would be cursed by those on earth, heaven and hell until the end of time.

Slowly, achingly, he pushed himself to his feet and sat in the abandoned chair, staring at the gun that sat on the table. Would that he could use it on himself. Would that his grace would let him rest. But he still had a job to do and a promise to keep. He reached out, fingers lightly brushing the cool metal, gently stroking as he might a lover. Hopefully, one day soon, Dean would put it down for good, and enjoy the time he had left on earth in peace. Hopefully, Castiel would see a genuine smile on his face, just once more.

That was all he could ask for now. All he could pray for, even if his Father never answered his prayers. He'd been through more, felt more than any angel should, and still it was not enough. It could never be enough now.

Clasping both hands over his face, unable to fight the hateful human emotions that had led him to all of this in the first place, the angel wept again, not trying to hold them back this time, though he fought to keep them quiet so he wouldn't disturb Dean. He wept until his body shook, until he could barely breath, until his eyes were dry and tight, until his throat was closed and the whimpers that escaped him were strangled. He wept until he could no longer, pouring his sorrows into the palms of his hands for an indeterminate amount of time.

Castiel knew he would smile again later, he'd laugh, if Dean made a joke. But he knew that he was broken beyond repair, and that every one of those smiles and laughs would only add to the pile of lies he already lorded over.

 

* * *

 

It had been half a year already. How had it been that long already? It had passed in the manner that time always does, slow at first, just a trickle of sand through your fingers, and then when you stop paying attention and counting each grain, it slips by in the blink of an eye.

Time hadn't healed Dean's wounds, but it had lessened them, deadened the raw nerve endings in his heart; so each morning when he woke up and looked over, he didn't lose his breath when he remembered he was in a room with only a single bed. There were times now when he drove the Impala and didn't make an off handed comment to Sam. Best of all, there was the very rare occasion when he would smile and it wasn't forced and it almost reached his eyes.

People who met Dean started to not ask him what was wrong, they no longer immediately assumed that he had lost someone, they no longer noticed the times when it took everything he had to get out of bed in the morning and save their lives. He was still hunting, and while Sam's last request had been to stop, he knew he couldn't. Hunting was what gave him a purpose and direction these days, it was something solid that he could hold onto and think of problems other than his own.

So when he began to notice when Castiel would stare endlessly off into space when Dean wasn't speaking to him, or the way Castiel would finger his angel blade with an almost palpable longing when he thought Dean couldn't see, wouldn't notice, Dean began to get angry. It was hard to live on without Sam, and there were so many days when he drove through a crossroad and almost stopped, almost tried to bring him back. But he hadn't. If he, of all people, could soldier on without Sam, then what right did Castiel have to act like he was the one who was lost?

They still had each other, for better or worse, and after six months of this, Dean decided that it was time to slap a bandage over Castiel's wounds and tell him to man up.

Walking out of the shower, determined to have this conversation today and not shy away from it again, he saw Castiel staring at the blank television screen and he couldn't help but huff a frustrated sigh. "Cas, we need to talk.”

For Castiel, time had done the opposite. Where once, the years had flown by to the angel, as quick as the blink of an eye, each second had slowed to a crawl. Each hour seemed to take days, and each day seemed like an eternity. He simply endured each grueling second, never able to come to terms with his failures and his loss. As much as he hated to admit it, angels were social creatures, designed to stand strong and support one another in their love and obedience to God. Castiel had turned his back on his brothers and sisters, and they had done the same to him. He was alone now, certain that Dean only tolerated his presence instead of enjoying it. They never spoke of his relationship with Sam, how they had been lovers. The topic was never breached.

He no longer asked if Dean was okay. He knew it could never be okay again, and he knew he could never make it right, but that never stopped him from trying. He obeyed Dean with a single minded intensity, needing direction. If Dean asked him to look for a case, he looked. If Dean asked him to leave for the night, he left. If Dean offhandedly mentioned that he wanted something, Castiel did not rest until Dean had that something. Unlike Dean, the weight of Castiel's sin rubbed his own wounds raw and bloody, left them infected and inflamed. He was feverish with them, always aching, desperate for relief that he would never have, and never be able to earn.

Not once did he move to take Sam's place in the impala, always cramming himself into the back-seat where he believed he belonged, before Dean could offer it to him.

He longed for nothingness with all of his heart, and though his duty kept him tightly tethered, it did not stop him from fantasizing. Often, when Dean wasn't around, he would tenderly handle his blade, and imagine sliding the sharp instrument cleanly between a gap in his ribs, sinking it deep enough into his heart to stop it's steady beat. He could never do it, he owed a debt to Dean, and Lucifer, and Castiel intended to keep his word this time, but oh, he wanted it so badly he could taste it sometimes.

He hadn't shed a tear since the night he'd taken Dean's memories, and had kept up his lie bravely, reassuring Dean that his brother was safely nestled in Heaven. Once or twice he had sensed the pure power of Lucifer close by, but he'd never sought Sam out, instead, quietly distancing himself from the being until he could no longer feel the tendrils of grace.

Today was a day like every other, each one a little worse than the last, a downwards spiral that he could see no end to, and Castiel was lost in his own thoughts, sitting on the hotel bed and staring at a TV he had forgotten to even turn on. It took a moment for him to react to Dean's voice, and blue eyes tracked upwards, blank, but curious. Dean was angry at him, and he had every right to be, but what if he told the angel to leave for good, that he thought they should separate? Castiel didn't know how he could handle such a thing.

"Oh. Of course," he said with a slight nod, closing his eyes and straightening his back before turning to focus all of his attention on the mortal. He had no idea what he might be told, but he would  willingly listen.

Dean dragged over a chair and sat down opposite Castiel, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. For a moment he fiddled with his hands before deciding to leave them hanging limp. "Listen, Cas... I know that you and Sam were... close, but you've got to cut the crap and get a grip. If his last wish for me was to live a better life without him, I'm sure his last wish for you was the same." He sighed and closed his eyes, hands curling into loose fists.

"I'm barely hangin' on here, Cas, and I can't watch you deteriorate like this. Can't do it. I don't want this to be a big chick flick moment, but I need you. I've got you, Baby, and booze; and if you go and Kevorkian yourself, I'm gonna end up getting drunk one of these days and driving off a cliff."

An uncomfortable silence followed that as Dean shifted in his chair slightly and tried to convince himself that this wasn't too emotional an out reach for him, tried not to think about the fact that Sam would have been the perfect person for this talk. Tried not to think about Sam, even though they had to address it all.

"Damn it, Cas. You're an angel, and probably the most intimidating thing I've ever come across when you're on your A game. I know you've gotten the short end of the stick, but so have I. If you want to wallow in self pity and think about ending it, you can't do it here. Got it?" Perhaps that was overly cruel, but he had the feeling that if he didn't shock Castiel out of the funk he was in, he was going to lose the last person he had.

The angel's eyes never strayed from Dean's green ones, even if the fiddling hands were calling his attention briefly. Dreading what was going to come out of Dean's mouth, he mentally steeled himself for the worst, his spine stiffening ever-so-slightly. He wasn't prepared enough. Dean tore into him soundly, letting Castiel know that he thoughts were not nearly as personal as he had believed he'd kept them. Pain flickered in his eyes as the fell, and the angel wet his lips briefly, trying to be as concise with his words as possible.

"I apologize, Dean." he started briefly, and then fell silent again. "But you should know, that no matter what you think I might do, I will not leave you." He said softly, finally looking up again with a long sigh. " I told you both that I intended to keep both of you safe until your natural lives ended, and I can't--- I refuse to fail you too." He did not reassure Dean that it would never happen, or that he wasn't thinking such thoughts. It would be futile to pretend. He didn't have the strength for more lies.

"I can't tell you that I don't wish I could die. It wouldn't be the truth. I know you can't understand the magnitude of my failures, and I don't expect you to try. But I swear that I will see you through this life at all costs." He lowered his eyes again and took a deep breath. "From now on, I will make certain that I do not let my emotions get the better of me when I am with you. Please forgive me."

Dean let out another frustrated sigh and scrubbed his hand over his face. "Cas... you can't live just for the job. Trust me, I've been down that road, it doesn't work. You have to find a reason to keep going. I don't care if your reason to wake up each morning is strawberry waffles, but you have to have something." He sat for a moment and blinked, realising that Castiel didn't actually sleep, so he couldn't really wake up, but that didn't quite ruin his point.

"Do you get it?" He was worried about Castiel, and even though lately they hadn't been on the best terms, he was still a friend to Dean through all the time's he'd needed one. "If... if you need someone to listen or whatever, I'm here for you, alright?" And that was hard to say, but it was true. If it would help, he'd grab a bottle of Jack and listen to Castiel pour his heart out, lord knows he'd done that enough times when Sam was young.

And there he went thinking about Sam again...

"Angels have always lived for the job, Dean." Castiel said gently, trying to explain. "We were created to obey and serve. Nothing more. Until I met you and your brother, I didn't feel. I didn't think. I obeyed the commands my superiors gave me without question. Humans and angels were created with different purposes in mind. I do understand what you are trying to say. I know you don't approve of it, but after I fell, Sam was my reason for 'waking up'." The angel looked back down, and closed his eyes.

"And now you are."

The words were quiet but earnest as Castiel folded his hands and took a deep breath, giving a tiny shrug. "Seeing you happy again, truly happy... Is what I want more than anything right now. I know it will be a long time before that day comes, if it ever does, but that is all I have left to hope for."  He laid everything out in front of Dean calmly, though inside he felt like he was shriveling.

Dean didn't know how you responded to something like that. It was more than just the fact that Castiel had nothing of his own, it was the realization that all this time he had judged him unfairly. Castiel had loved his brother, probably as much as he did, and he'd never realized that they were both grieving the same death. "Yeah... I know he was." Reaching out he laid a hand on Castiel's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, letting it linger a moment before falling back into his lap.

"Listen, I'll be honest, not sure I want to be your reason for anything, but I can understand. So just... give it time."

Time, that fickle thing that passed at a crawl when you didn't want it to and stole away all your happiest times in the blink of an eye.

He thought about Chronos again, and he could only be thankful that the time he had been given with his brother wasn't at the cost of others' lives or separated by the gulf of centuries. They had had an amazing run, more phenomenal stories than any one life could ever hold, and now that it was just him, he knew it would never be that way again.

"Just give it time." As if time was a currency either of them had, as if they had anything else now.

Dark eyelashes kissed Castiel's cheeks briefly as he closed his eyes at Dean's touch. It felt so good to be touched again, even simply. It had been far too long since he'd been held or comforted in any way. It lightened his load, just a little, and his muscles relaxed a fraction, before he sought out those green eyes again. He could barely stand to look at them, knowing the lies Dean now believed, but he wanted to just the same.

"I have more than enough to give." he agreed helplessly, gesturing gently with his hands. Not knowing what else to say, or do, or even think, the angel looked back at the TV screen. He'd still failed. He'd still lost. Dean had been right about Castiel hurting Sam in the end.

"I should have listened to you." he finally said quietly, regret coloring his words. "I shouldn't have been with him."

And here was the part of the conversation that Dean didn't want to get into, but at the same time he realized that Cas was sort of in a delicate state of mind and he didn't want to screw up his whole pep talk by clamming up now. "Hey, Cas, I don't know what you think you could have done, but... Sam was happy with you. Ok? I hadn't seen him smile like that in, well a long time."

Dean chuckled a little and shook his head, "And besides, if there was one thing he was good at, it was screwing things up, all on his own. So whatever you think you did, you can't take all the credit."

Brushing off his pants, he stood up and nodded. "Well, I need to go get more ammunition." It wasn't his best segue, or even a remotely good segue, but that was his emotional quota for the next month, and talking any more about Sammy would tear open the thin membrane between him and the desolation of life without him. "And alcohol."

Castiel looked up despondently at Dean, reminded again that whatever Sam had said, he had never truly loved Castiel. He may have believed he had at some points, but in the end, they'd both known the truth. Castiel didn't even have their time together to rely on. He almost choked, but just managed not to, closing his eyes tightly and then turning his head away.

"I will... get the alcohol." he whispered softly, before standing. He would have picked up both, if he hadn't wanted Dean to stop hunting so badly. He realized that the conversation was over, that Dean was trying to find a polite way out, and so he gave it to the hunter by disappearing. A few moments later, three bottles of various spirits he'd seen Dean drink most often, as well as a six pack of beer, were laid out neatly on Dean's bed. He didn't know which Dean might prefer today, so he'd simply gotten a variety.

"If you... need anything else, anything... Just call." he murmured, with the slightest ghost of a lonely smile before dismissing himself in a flutter of feathers. He didn't go far, just to the roof, but he would make sure Dean didn't see his melancholy anymore.

Dean was really getting tired of angels flitting in and out whenever they felt like it. However if he needed space, then it was only fair that Castiel would too. He certainly wasn't expecting Castiel to come back in a few seconds later and then disappear again.

Damn angels.

Running a hand through his hair, he tried to remind himself again that it was only fair, and being cooped up too long, too close to each other, was how you got frayed nerves n the first place.

Didn't mean he had to like it.

Eventually he'd figure out a concrete way to help Castiel, he would. Sam would have wanted that. So he went out to the Impala with a grim determination and the smallest ghost of a real smile. He'd save that damn angel if it was the last thing he did. He owed Sam that much.

 

* * *

 

Two months later found Dean sitting at the table in his latest hotel room, a dingy affair that had a blown bulb in the one light in the room, so he sat in the light of the neon sign coming through the blinds, fingers curled around a bottle of bourbon. He'd been dreading today, each day that drew it closer was another day that he had hoped would never come. Tonight was Sam's birthday, would have been.

He'd spent the entire day in a haze, practically assaulted by memories of his younger brother, memories of the little boy who had looked up to him as if he was the world's only superhero, memories of fireworks in the freezing cold, memories of beer on the Impala and long talks about nothing important. Memories from the days when Dean still felt whole.

He took another swig from the bottle and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, clenching his teeth. Maybe it would be easier if he cried, if he let all his emotions out, but he couldn't cry. Today he was the hollow man, witness as the world ended with a whisper. And he hadn't even been conscious to watch Sam die.

Dropping his hands down, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against the cool wood of the table, keeping his eyes closed, staring into the abyss. Normally he wouldn't let himself indulge in this, wouldn't let himself feel so acutely, but it seemed right, tonight.

On a whim, he sat back up and parted his lips, whispering into the void, "Cas, wanna drink?" If the angel came, at least he wouldn't have to drink alone tonight.

Over the course of the two months, Castiel slid harder and faster in that blackness generated by his own self hatred. Though he was there, watching over Dean at all times, he did not make himself present unless he was certain he could hide behind a smile, or Dean asked for him to be there. His times away grew longer, and more frequent, and everything about the angel began to look drawn and worn, though his continued to keep himself impeccably clean.

He had never learned what the boys birthdays were. He had never understood the significance, but perhaps that was because time did not run for him as it did humans. He did not have a limited amount of it. The day of his creation held no special meaning for him, though Sam's day clearly held some significance to Dean. Castiel tried to cut those thoughts off before he could let them go any further. Dean might need him tonight, and if he let himself wallow in the self-pity that now came so naturally, he might miss being able to help. That simply would not do.

As he half expected, Dean spoke his name, and the angel appeared, standing in front of the brother who was already well on his way to being inebriated. He managed to keep his own sadness at bay, pinning it back with a small smile, just glad that he had been asked to keep Dean company. Though he remembered the last time he drank, he put that particular day out of his mind, and slowly pulled out a seat next to the elder Winchester, searching the mortal's eyes.

"Are you certain you want me to be here?" he murmured softly.

"Yeah, yeah I'm sure. Better than drinking alone." Dean massaged the bridge of his nose before taking another swig from his bottle. "Besides, today's Sammy's birthday, and we should... commiserate his life, ya know? Honor the dead. If he had a grave, I'd be out there pouring some of this on it and drinking with him."

That's how tragic this was, Dean didn't even have a gravesite to remember Sam by. Then again, he didn't have one for his father either. So in reality, their whole family were unsung heroes who would never be remembered, but that was fine, the family business wasn't about getting recognition.

"So shoot, favorite memory of Sam." Raising his bottle to Castiel, he took another draught, but then blinked and shook his head as he put the bottle back down. "Wait, unless it's during sex or something like that. Don't need to hear those stories."

Yeah, so he was halfway to plastered, but that helped with all of this, helped deal with talking about Sam.

Castiel folded his hand on the table, leaning back in the chair and tipping his head to the side. Yes. Sam's birthday. It seemed counterproductive to celebrate another birthday with the man presumed dead, but he would do it because it was important to Dean. And anything important to Dean was important to him, and would be for the rest of his life.

Castiel looked over the bottles, but he didn't take any yet, his gaze turning contemplative as he sorted through his many memories. They all hurt now, every single one burned when he remembered the truth, but for tonight he could pretend that he wasn't leaving pieces of himself behind at every stop. Scratching at his chin gently for a moment, his eyes softened slightly, and he let a ghost of a smile play over his lips.

"When he tried to tell me that Skittles were supposed to taste like rainbows, and I was confused because I have flown through rainbows before." he said softly, giving a small sigh after a brief chuckle.

"Skittles?" Dean asked incredulously, trying to imagine Sam willingly encouraging others to eat anything other than his rabbit food. "So you flew through a rainbow, what, with your mouth open?" He didn't suppose that rainbows would taste like anything, so it made sense why Castiel would have been confused.

Castiel nodded. "It was when I joined you two again, remember? I offered some to you, I tried to warn you it tasted like fruit instead of a rainbow. I don't think you heard me,or if you did, You didn't care." Castiel murmured sheepishly. "I didn't fly through a rainbow with my mouth open on purpose, in any case. I had been speaking to a ... well, a brother, when we passed through the water the sun was reflecting off of. It tasted like normal water." He gave another small smile and settle back in the chair, listening to Dean quietly.

"Alright, how about this. So Sammy... he's maybe 15, and stole Dad's car for the night. I'd done it tons of times. Well, I generally hotwired a stranger's car, but... Anyhow, he takes Dad's car so that he can go to... ready for this?" He started chuckling. "A seminar on moose. Honest to god, a moose seminar in the next town over. When Dad caught him that night, Sam couldn't sit for a week."

He shook his head, laughing lightly. "That was probably when we should have picked up on the fact that Sam wouldn't want to be a hunter, he wanted to learn things. Go to college. Whole nine yards." His tone turned a little more serious, a little more haunting, "You know, when Dad found his acceptance letter to Stanford, he just about disowned Sam, but I... He was my boy, and I couldn't have been prouder. Thought he was a dipshit for wanting to leave us, but I was so proud of him at the same time."

"Now he'd probably just take online classes. Wouldn't that be something? Get his degree while on the road."

He remembered Sam asking questions about Heaven when he believed he could ask them without upsetting Castiel, how he had been eager to learn everything he could, beyond the scope of hunting. He gave a small smile, and nodded quietly, agreeing with it all. It was all he could do. He could not tell Dean that Sam was alive, but would never want for a college degree. He could not tell Dean that all the seminars about moose in the world could tell him what Lucifer's power could.

He swallowed and glanced at the bottle he held quietly. Who would need a degree in thirty or so years.

"Did you ever tell him that? That you were proud, I mean?" he whispered softly.

Dean was taken aback by the frank question and he flustered slightly. "Well, probably not in so many words, but he knew. Yeah... he knew." He had to believe that, because otherwise that was just another way in which he'd failed Sam. There were all those times when he called Sam 'my boy', but had Sam realized just what he meant by it?

Shaking his head to dislodge the thoughts, he took another drink. "Your turn, Cas."

He wanted to get drunk in an orderly manner, reminisce about Sam, and then pass out on his bed and wake up to a wet pillow where he might have cried in his sleep. It was a good, solid plan, one he could stick to.

Damn it, why did Sam have to sacrifice himself for them? Why did Heaven have to take him away? Dean still needed that little boy who had always looked up to him, but the years on the road had taken Sam's innocence, and the lies had taken their friendship. Fate or destiny or just plain crap had robbed him of Sam, and that wasn't ok.

"Yes. He knows." Castiel comforted Dean, realizing he'd misstepped, for a moment and glad when the hunter seemed to recover. He gave a slight smile, before curling his fingers into his palms. Looking down at them. He still hadn't drank, not wanting to take the bottle from Dean, who seemed to be finding his comfort in it. Castiel would let him keep it.

"There was a week.." he started slowly, very quietly, his voice cracking more than he wanted it too, unexpectedly. He furrowed his brows, cleared his throat and blinked several times, fighting back the sudden tsunami of emotion that crashed into him. He licked his lips and dug his fingers even harder into his palms.

"There was a week, where... he and I .. spent each night on a different continent, just.. to study the stars to see how different they looked from each one.." He closed his eyes and tipped his head toward the neon lights outside. "He knew so much more than I thought he might. He told... me the human names for some stars, pointed out human constellations. Told me their stories." The angel trembled and finally had to stop, taking a deep breath. Maybe Dean wouldn't appreciate the reminder that Castiel and Sam had been lovers, with all the urges to do silly, sappy things with one another, but maybe he would appreciate that Sam had been happy, at least.

He wouldn't know until Dean responded, though it was obvious he was keeping his gaze respectfully turned away.

Dean noticed Castiel cracking, saw the pain and loss peaking through his thin veneer, and he understood, maybe not perfectly, but he understood all too well. Passing over the bottle, he nodded to it. "Go on, you're gonna need that as much as I do."

So they'd gone and watched the stars? That sounded like Sam. "He, uh, he used to beg me to let him out of the hotel rooms when we were young, because he wanted to look at the stars. But I couldn't, right? I mean, Dad would have flipped, after the shtriga almost got Sam, almost stole his life force." He was shaking slightly, and he held onto his upper arm, giving at least one of his hands something to do. It hurt to talk about Sam, to know he wasn't coming back, but, but it was good.

"Let's see though, happy memory..." Slowly he paged through the memories he had of Sam as if it was a giant tome, a book chronicling their lives, because it had always been their lives, not his, not Sam's. "Sam had just turned 13, he was already almost as tall as me. So he comes home with a black eye and I must have pressed him for an hour before he finally told me that he'd got it from a girl. He'd tried to kiss this girl, completely misunderstood her signals, and got laid flat by her. He was almost in tears, begging me that I couldn't tell Dad. He was so embarrassed."

Castiel paused before taking the bottle slowly, cradling it gently before before lifting it to his lips and drinking deeply. If he drank too much, he knew he could simply fetch another one faster than the time it would take Dean to walk to the bathroom. Hissing softly as he drew it from his lips, he pressed it back to Dean gently with two fingers, and concentrated on the low burn that slid down his vessel's throat. He gave a small, smile at Dean, a tired one, before nodding. "You were protecting him." he said softly before looking back out the window, crossing one ankle over the other.

"Embarrassed to be hit by a female?" he asked softly, puzzled. "I suppose in humans that is understandable as males are frequently stronger than females, but... " he shut up for a moment, realizing he had his answer right there. He was going to say that a female angel's strength was just as powerful as a males of the same rank, but Sam and Dean weren't angels. "Nevermind. I understand." he said softly, giving another nod.

Taking a deep breath and trying to hide his trembling, He disappeared for a moment and then returned minutes later with two armfuls of bottles of what Dean was drinking. He dropped them all on the table and picked one, up, downing the entire bottle in a manner of seconds. Being an angel, he was far more resistant to it's effects than Dean, and he knew that it was his turn.

"I taught him to talk to faeries, and his first words to them were quite rude, by human standards. He had made a mistake in pronouncing a word, and... well.. Faeries can be quite ferocious when they are upset. Sam almost got hit in the eye with a pebble from a slingshot." he confessed, chuckling. "They ended up tripping him several times before he managed to get out of the forest. I found it quite amusing." he chuckled, opening a second bottle and beginning to drink it, almost like it was water.

Dean accepted his bottle back with a small nod, and when Cas came back, arms loaded up with bottles, well he only smirked a little. He knew how much it took to get Castiel drunk, and so the drinks made sense. However at the mention of faeries he stiffened slightly and shook his head, "Yeah, well I would have said something rude to them on purpose. Sam was probably just channeling my hatred for the damn bugs."

Every once in a while, Dean was sure he still saw those little pests following him out of the corners of his eyes. But Sam seeing, talking to faeries... He'd forgotten. "He was able to see a lot more of the world, right? I'll tell two stories after you, but... what sorts of things did he see? How'd he react?"

Sam had always been special, had grown up with it, but he figured it would have been different to know that there was even more buried inside you. How was all of that even possible? Was it simply because of Yellow Eyes? Or because he was Lucifer's vessel? There were so many questions that he'd likely never have the answers to.

Castiel finished off the second bottle and coughed slightly, closing his eyes tightly for a moment and tipping his head back as he felt the first stirrings of warmth in his fingertips. What he had just consumed would have been enough to kill a normal human. "They probably would have done far worse to you, in that case." he said softly, almost cheekily, remember Sam commenting on how he was starting to understand Dean's hatred and rubbing a rapidly healing scraped knee.

"He was." Castiel nodded slowly, taking a deep breath and lifting a hand to the back of his neck. "He... saw many things. Was able to see many things. Faeries.. Spirits.. Ghosts... He was able to pick out Demons.. There are far more Supernatural beings in this world than you think Dean, though many are one a different plane.  You have dealt only with those that cause problems, and are dangerous... but there are far more that walk among humans without so much as a whisper." He gave a soft sigh. "There is one in the room next to us actually. She was killed several years ago, and has never manifested to a mortal." he murmured.

Starting on a third bottle, he watched Dean quietly, for several long moments before very quietly adding. "He could see my wings... and.. Parts of my trueform, under this vessel."  He had no idea how Dean would react to that. “He reacted with... fascination, among other things." Taking another long drink, he down at his lap again, licking his bottom lip.

Dean listened, doing his best to absorb it all and accept this side of Sam that he never let himself see. Somehow it was easier now, to not be worried, probably because Sam was dead, there really wasn't anything more his powers could do to him. "He could... see your wings? I thought that people who looked at angels, well, got their eyes burned out or went crazy."

Pamela. She'd looked at Castiel's trueform and had lost her eyes for it, but Sam had done the same thing and was fine? "Well, I'm glad that went well." He really didn't want to think about his brother seeing inside Cas, seeing whatever his trueform was supposed to be. Something angelic maybe, like those visions in the Bible, probably.

"I told you once before Dean.. There are certain people, special people, that can hear an Angel's true voice, or see their true form. I gave him a small portion of my grace to keep... And I suppose that could have shielded him somewhat from the effects a normal mortal may suffer. " he looked down, furrowing his brows and running his hand over his face again, remembering their first time together, the way Sam had touched him even after being able to see through the veil.

"He realized I was a Seraph then. He could see all six of them." he murmured.

Dean nodded before starting on another recollection. "So, Sam made this one incredible kill that I think we crowed about to every hunter we ever met. We're hunting down this creature, and because of all the drained victims, we're thinkin' it could be a vampire, but there's just something about the case that didn't feel right for that. It turned out to be a hydra, never seen one before or since. It was during the big debacle with Eve though, so, that could be why it came out. Anyhow, he decapitated it, but two heads grow back. I immediately think that we should chop off the heads faster or salt the stumps or something, but Sam pulls out the myth of Hercules out of nowhere. He goes and cuts down both heads and then starts torching the thing.

"He'd been amazing that day, covered in blood and soot, completely proud of himself, not because he'd killed a nearly mythic creature, but because his knowledge of myths had come in handy, and not just while we were doing research somewhere."

Sipping steadily on his third bottle of liquor, the angel watched Dean quietly, listening to the story. Sam had told it to him once, but he didn't mind hearing it again, at all. He remembered the pride in Sam's expression when he told it, he remembered loving Sam's face light up that way, when the method he described without research worked flawlessly.

"He is very intelligent." he breathed softly, nodding agreeably, and finishing off even the third bottle. He closed his eyes for a moment and tipped his head back, sighing deeply. "I'm not surprised he enjoyed those tales. Many of them were remnants of the lesser gods' experiments, making creatures and people into their playthings. There were hunters then, just as there are now, though their methods were cruder. And there was much more trial and error at that time."

Seraph, out of almost all of that, seraph was the word that really hit Dean. That and six wings. There had been an occasion or two, where he had seen the shadow, the displacement of where Castiel's wings might have been, and there had always been the two of them, just a single pair. Why the difference?

Dean took a long drag from the bottle and was disappointed when he realized he'd finished it.

But the burn down his throat did give him the incentive to ask, liquid courage after all. "So wait, six wings? I saw... I don't know, the shadow of your wings, and you had one pair. They only manifest a tiny bit or something?" His mind tossed around performance jokes, but thankfully he wasn't far gone enough to say them out loud.

It was only after he'd asked that he realized Castiel was rather consistently using the present tense when talking about Sam, and that hurt. He was willing to let Sam go into the past, send him off with a bon voyage and try to make it through without him. It looked like poor Cas, who had loved his brother, couldn't give him up yet.

He supposed he understood.

"I had a normal, single pair of wings before I was promoted to Seraph, the second time after I was killed.When I was revived then, I had a Seraph's form, though I was still myself.  I have the ability to project their shadows onto surfaces, and simply choose one pair most of the time. It's less energy, and usually gets the point across." Castiel murmured softly, giving a tiny hiccup.

"They were completely white before I fell, now they are completely black. They've been tainted with sin, and are stains I cannot remove. If you would like me to cast the shadow of all six for you, you need only ask. I would be glad to." he mumbled, filling just the slightest hint of fuzz rubbing at the corners of his mind.

He popped open the fourth bottle, but passed this one to Dean, while taking another for himself. Examining the hunter quietly, he leaned back in his chair again and re-crossed his ankles, one over the other.

Dean took a while longer than normal to process that, partially because it wasn't everyday that you found out angels could be promoted because they died, and secondly because he really was getting a great buzz going. So the white wings turning to black, made sense. Kind of morbid thought, that angels would have to suffer such a visceral reminder that Heaven either didn't want them or they didn't want Heaven anymore.

"Oh, no, that's alright. I'll take your word on it. You tend to blow out lights..." He stopped in the middle of his sentence and looked at the completely lightless room they were in, and then out to the neon sign. Yeah, he didn't want Castiel's wings to blow out the neon light, that would just be inconvenient for when he needed to go to the bathroom later.

He wasn't sure if that light was working or not.

"So, I forget, is it my turn for a story or yours?" They both probably had some good ones, although Dean's were likely to be more appropriate for the whole audience.

Castiel turned his gaze to the neon sign outside, knowing that Dean was being truthful, and would probably be for the best that he did not use that power here. It was kind of ironic. He would probably be better off not using that power anywhere. Perhaps he should give up his grace, and become human with Dean. It wasn't as if he would be missed, would it? Listlessly he began sliding his bottle back and forth across the table between his hands.

"I think it's yours. I'm not sure. Many of my recent memories contain elements you would not enjoying hearing." he said softly, taking and deep swallow and closing his eyes tightly for a moment. Surprisingly, he realized with a start that he didn't quite feel as bad as he had before, not since he'd begun drinking. His mind was fuzzy and he almost, almost, felt something other than the walls of the pit he had dug himself into.

He glanced at the bottle he held and shook his head lightly, giving another small cough.

Dean nodded, absently trying to think of another story, and trying not to think too hard about what Cas had just said. It had been better when Sam called him and told him about how conflicted he was at college, about how he'd wanted to go out with his roommate, but he'd destroyed his life, was taking others down with him. So Sam had called Dean and told him the entire story, how he'd been so worried that Dean would resent him or disown him for being Bi, but college was for experimenting right? Dean had said he wouldn't know, and Sam had apologized, because a long time ago that's how their relationship worked, Sam was always ready to apologize.

Then Sam called about Jess.

Some days Dean wished Sam had tried to make a go with Brady, just so that Sam never would have had to see Jessica on the ceiling, stomach ripped and flesh burning.

But none of that was happy memories.

"Alright. So you know how Sam always loved that weird, country, easy listening jazz stuff? Well, when we were on the road one time, he was driving, and I woke up without him noticing. So I sneak my eyes open, and what do I see? Sam jamming, quietly, against the steering wheel to Dream On by Aerosmith. He was singing along with every verse and keeping tempo on air drums. So I always suspected that he liked classic rock, he just listened to other things around Dad and I to make himself just that extra bit rebellious."

Castiel blinked, knowing by now what Song Dean was referencing, though not well. Considering the hunter for several moments, the angel finally seemed to kick himself into response mode and gave a slight nod. "After you left, he bought a .. um..  handheld radio?" he murmured softly. "He learned to control electromagnetic things, manipulate and tune into radio frequencies. He would often pick up some of the same stations that you listen to." he murmured softly, confirming Dean's suspicions, at least partly.

"I particularly enjoyed a song called..." He paused, looking as if he was concentrating for a moment. "I believe it Sam calls it "Darkness, Darkness?" He sounded unsure, and sighed deeply, only remembered how that song had reverberated with him. It had stuck with him, though he couldn’t recall the lyrics at the moment.

Taking another swallow, the angel licked his lips and ran his hand through his own hair, lowering his head.

Sam had listened to his stations after he'd left? And that thought broke Dean. He pushed back from the table and stood up, unsteady on his feet. Taking a long swig from the bourbon, he capped it and set it down on the table, almost missing it. He'd likely drank too much, but nothing would be enough, not in this moment, imagining his brother in a hotel room without him, trying to learn how to control all his new powers and what did he do? He listened to Dean's music, to Dad's music.

It was a stupid, insignificant detail, but it made Sam's death, his absence so painfully real and immediate. And his deadened nerves flared to life as he fought to keep the stinging in his eyes from spilling over.

"I uh... I need to go to bed." He said, taking an unsteady step towards the large bed. The world spun around him and he leaned forward to grip his knees, trying to let it all right itself. "You mind stayin' the night, just in case I need to get this out of my system?" His voice was a little weak as he asked, as he realized that he'd drank a lot more than he thought he had. "I'm just gonna lay down and hope the Earth stops spinning."

Sammy would have made a comment on how the Earth's rotation was what kept everyone on it, and Dean would have lightly slugged his shoulder.

Dammit, he missed Sam. He missed Sam so much it would kill him if he let himself think about it. Where was all that great progress he'd made over the past months? Why was it that one stupid fact about music was enough to nearly destroy him?

The angel stood up immediately as Dean swayed, hands instinctively splaying to catch the Dean in case he were to fall. He didn't touch without permission though, and his eyes searched Dean's quietly. Again, Castiel was completely aware that something he'd said was the cause of Dean's sorrow, and he added to the list of things he would not be able to forgive himself for. One step forward, two steps back. That's how it had always been to the angel.

"I... Yes.. Of course I will stay." he said softly, using his power to pull the comforter of the bed back easily, preparing it for Dean. He ended up putting his hand on the Winchester's back anyway, just to help him into the bed, feeling a little unsteady himself as he stood.

Standing awkwardly once he had made certain that Dean was safely in place, the angel took a deep breath. "Is there.. Anything else you need?" he whispered, his voice barely there.

Dean could tell Castiel had closed up again, although the knowledge was fuzzy through the buzz in his blood and the ringing in his ears. It was horrid in a way, because being drunk never made him feel like he thought any slower or made things more difficult, it simply gave him all the nasty side effects and a slight lag when interacting with the world, so he had to be sure he didn't get out of sync.

"Yeah, don't blame... yourself." He paused a moment as a wave of naseau swept through him. "I'm the one who thought it'd be good to talk about Sam so soon. Hell, come tomorrow I'll be clinging to these stories... just to make it through the day." Looking the angel dead in the eye, he slurred, "There's som'pain that's good, Cas, som'pain that 'eals and strengthens us."

Then he closed his eyes, ready for sleep to come.

Castiel just smiled at Dean, making no promises as he reached out to touch his friend's forehead, wiping the nausea from him, and filtering some of the excess alcohol from his blood so that he wouldn't wake up retching, and might hopefully get a little sleep.

"Just rest, Dean." he coaxed softly.

He wished he knew of that pain the healed and strengthened, but adding onto the lies had only eroded more. Flicking the lights off quietly, he returned to his seat, staring at the eight bottles of liquor he'd brought back from the store, far too much for any human to handle. Barely enough for an angel. In quick succession, one after the other, he drank what remained, and closed his eyes as he sat back to let the potent brew take effect, everyone once in a while glancing at the elder Winchester, just to make certain he was fine.

A half hour later and Castiel barely knew which way was up anymore. Nor did he particularly care, the alcohol had numbed him significantly to the pain of his problems. He already knew that this would end up being a crutch. Sitting for what seemed like another hour, simply lost in his own thoughts, the angel finally managed to heave himself up and shift his body to bed, collapsing on the side opposite to Dean, face down in the pillow.

He gave a few soft hiccups before calming enough to let his mind level out into a half-dozing state, and simply flexed his fingers gently, as he let the alcohol slowly burn itself off.

Dean woke up a little with the movement, and between his mostly unconscious state and his drunkenness, he whispered, "Hey Sammy... Nightmare? S'ok. You can sleep with me tonight." And then he went back to sleep, dead to the world until morning.

When he finally woke up, the early dawn sunlight was streaming into the room through the slats of the shades, lighting the room with a picturesque beauty, not that Dean appreciated it with his hangover. As he rolled onto his back, he noticed one side had approached something warm. Turning to look, he saw Castiel in bed beside him, face down in a pillow, breathing shallow and slow. Was... was there an angel sleeping in his bed?

But his initial confusion passed as he remembered the events of the night before and his brief interruption to his sleep when Cas had climbed on.

Well, goodness knows that they both needed a rest, emotionally and physically; and with how much Castiel had drank, he was probably still filtering alcohol hours later. Thank goodness he wasn't as heavy a drinker as Cas. Of course if he was, he'd be dead. No human could match an angel when it came to drinking.

Swiping a hand across his face, he felt the salty trail of tears and then felt about his pillow. Sure enough, there was a small damp spot where his head had been. He must have cried about Sam in his sleep. Not wanting to think about that, he pushed out of bed and quietly stumbled into the shower, wanting to wash the alcohol, that was probably coming out his pores, off his body.

Castiel thought all night about the words Dean had spoken, calling him Sam, and it had taken long to forget, to put himself into something of a peaceful, if drunken, meditation. He was aware of his surroundings the next morning, aware of Dean moving, aware he was being watched.

He knew he should have left before Dean had woken, but he hadn't found the motivation to, and now, it was too late, so he simply lay quietly, never letting on that he was aware.

He didn't move until Dean had risen, and left the room, until he'd heard the shower turn on and knew Dean would be fine. Then, as quietly as he could, he disposed of all the empty bottles and blinked from the room, not intending to bother Dean any longer unless he was specifically called for. Remembering the kindness Dean had shown him the first time he had drank, he ended up leaving a bottle of Aspirin and cup of coffee on the table, from the little Parisian shop he and Sam had discovered their first night together.

Dean had said that coffee was good once, and he would probably need it.

Dean came out a few minutes later, hair slick from the shower, towel slung around his hips and gripped tight. However, apparently Castiel had left again. Well, he could at least hope that talking last night had helped the poor angel a little. He certainly wasn't as sensitive as Sam had been, but even he could tell that Castiel was wallowing, sinking deeper and deeper into a depression or something.

Problem was that he had no idea how to help him.

Hopefully he'd come up with something soon though, because he really couldn't stand to lose another person from his life; and maybe that was a selfish reason to cover up the fact that he really did care about Cas, counted him as a friend.

Sam would have known what to do. So what would Sam have done?

Yeah, that wouldn't really work, he couldn't think like Sam, but drinking had seemed to at least ease their conversation. Next time he drank, Dean decided he'd invite Cas along.


	15. If You Want To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about taking so long to update this, but graduating took precedence. Now that I'm off, you can expect these last few chapters to come out pretty quickly, as I have time to edit them again.

After that drink, Castiel had been lost to it. He used it as a crutch, as a pastime, as a medication. The angel had to drink copious amounts of alcohol, every time he wanted to get drunk, but every time Dean asked him if he wanted to drink, he showed up with chosen armfuls of booze for that night, and swallowed it down like it didn't burn. Three, and then four months passed, and he found with every drink, it was easier to open up, to speak with Dean if they chose to speak.

Sometimes, they simply sat and watched the TV in silence, catching up on the latest episodes of Dean's shows, or just browsing for something interesting. Sometimes, they shared stories. Once, Dean had even insisted on fishing. Castiel did all these things with the hunter, usually when he was in a daze where the fake smiles came easily and the fake chuckles sounded almost real. More often than not, Castiel simply sprawled in the large bed next to the elder Winchester to rest, and left without saying a word the next morning.

He did it all to avoid the memories of Sam, the knowledge of what Sam now was, his own lies and stupidity, but even with the alcohol numbing him, the pain was advancing rapidly, and it began to mean that even the most copious amounts could not dull Castiel's pain.

It was these nights he most longed for comfort, just an arm around his shoulder, and a voice to tell him it was alright. He hadn't had such a thing in far too long. Perhaps it was the alcohol that gave him strength, or perhaps it was simply the instinctive knowledge that he was going to crash if he didn't find what he needed that turned this night into something different. Whatever the case, it was several moments after they'd both sprawled across the bed on their backs, too drunk to really move, that Castiel moved anyway.

Pushing himself up slowly, though the effort was gruelling, his head wobbly and his balance off, he managed to roll onto his side, shifting to wiggle forward until he could lie his cheek on Dean's shoulder with a long, soft exhale. He was silent after that, but soon after, tremors began to flicker through the angel's muscles as wet warmth dripped onto the hunter's collarbone. The seraph hadn't been able to cry in so long. He simply couldn't hold it in anymore, and if Dean turned his back on the angel now, Castiel didn't know what he would do.

Dean realized that they were both drinking to excess, knew they were both using it as a coping mechanism, and knew it probably wasn't healthy. Problem was, he just didn't care. Because when they were both drinking, they could remove themselves from their lives and just talk, they could share quiet nights without drowning in their memories, guilts, fears, and pains. And if Castiel had taken to collapsing on his bed after they drank, well, he was really to drunk to care at that point.

So when Castiel broke that pattern, moving over and curling into him, Dean mentally had to take a moment to reevaluate their situation. The alcohol helped, kept him mellow, gave him the time to really think about what the hell was going on, and most importantly, it made him wait just long enough to feel Castiel's tears and recognize those small tremors for what they were. Castiel was silently sobbing into his chest.

Well, damn. You couldn't really turn out a poor broken soul, now could you?

With excruciating caution, Dean moved his arm from his side and loosely wrapped it around Castiel's ribs, trying to find a safe place to hold onto Castiel. "Hey, Cas, it's okay... It's okay..." What could he say when an angel cried? He wasn't even sure if the tears were about Sam or about how Cas had fallen from Heaven or a million other troubles that Cas had on his shoulders. What he did know was that he'd never been comfortable around tears, and Castiel crying was something that shouldn't happen if he could help it. "Come on, man, what's wrong?"

The angel trembled roughly, closing his eyes, shivering in Dean's embrace and taking comfort from the strong arms that lifted around him. He didn't even know why the tears fell, he thought he was long past the point of them, so numbed by constant pain and pressure that he didn't even have the energy to think about crying. Yet for all his thoughts, here he was, sobbing inaudibly into Dean's shoulder, not grasping at anything for fear that it would simply drive the hunter away.

He didn't know what to tell Dean, and even if he did, he wouldn't have been in the frame of mind to speak the words. He continued to whimper, closing his eyes tightly, shuddering in pain and fear and the weight of knowledge he didn't want to possess.

He was unable to stifle them for a long while, and by the time he did, Dean's shirt was soaked through at the shoulder. He lay numbly in the aftermath, feeling as if he'd been wiped clean with hellfire. It was a long time before he stirred again, though he couldn't bring himself to draw away from the comfort of another warm body. He was desperate to be held.

"I'm sorry," he slurred into the darkness. "I'm sorry Dean.. I didn't mean to wet your shirt." He was far too drunk to organize his thoughts and zap the bit of moisture away, but he knew his tears, in one way other another, caused Dean discomfort, whether emotional or physical.

While Castiel cried, Dean slowly began to rub circles on his back, trying his best to be soothing, which wasn't quite his forte. "Hey, it's alright." Seriously, he was entirely too tired and drunk to be expected to be any more eloquent than that. Think about this, what would Sam do?

Leaning forward the smallest amount, he pressed a kiss against Castiel's forehead.

"My shirts have suffered worse than a few tears." He said simply. "Now do you, uh, want to talk about it?" It had become almost second nature to wake up and see the angel there, but seeing him cry? That was still outside of his comfort zone. "I mean, I'll listen if you need."

Castiel felt comforted in some ways by the hand on his back, and hurt in others knowing that the reaction would be far different if Dean had known the truth. But he couldn't turn away any comfort right now. He couldn't afford to push Dean away and keep falling back into the pit he had created, so he let the hunter comfort him, and pressed his forehead to Dean's lips with a soft sigh, closing his eyes tightly.

He finally felt able to reach up, holding onto Dean's jacket so hard that his knuckles were white, though unable to be seen in the darkness. He appreciated that Dean didn't mind his tears, and he slowly relaxed, though he did not pull away. Pulling himself a little closer, the angel took another deep breath and calmed himself, before answering.

"No.. I.. I'm fine." he lied softly. "I just...  Want to stay like this for now. If that's alright with you."  he murmured.

Castiel wanted to stay plastered to his side? Yeah well, he tended to have that effect on people. "Yeah, sure, just don't mind me if I fall asleep." Dean muttered, already tired from the late night and the alcohol. He gave a light, comforting squeeze and then closed his eyes, his breathing slowing down as he drifted off.

Castiel nodded slightly against Dean's chest and simply rested, closing his eyes for a moment to take a deep breath. For one he willingly let his vessel rest, drifting into an alcohol laced slumber next to his remaining hunter. It hurt, in a good way, to be held again, to not be pushed away or looked at like he was the cause of all that was wrong in the world. It was wrong of him to have such comfort, he knew he didn't deserve it. Yet he took it willingly, this something that was not meant to be his, and he cherished it, for there would come a time when there was no one left to give him such things.

In the morning Dean realized he might have a problem, as he woke up and found Castiel still in his arms. However the real problem was that sometime in the night he had rolled onto his back and taken the angel with him, so that Castiel was laying on top of him, which was creating a little more pressure than he was entirely comfortable with. Now as long as Castiel didn't move that leg, or wake up, because this was already awkward enough.

It also didn't help that he needed to relieve himself.

Damn it angel.

Castiel had awoke in the middle of the night as Dean shifted, rolling over, surprise to find the hunter pulling his own slimmer form with him as he rolled. Shifting slightly, he settled back down into a position that should be comfortable for them both, and lay his cheek back down, giving a tiny sigh. The alcohol in his system had almost burned away, and there was no reason for him to sleep again, so he didn't, simply feeling the rise and fall of the hunter's chest underneath him.

For hours he simply lay like that, remembering the times he'd lain with Sam in the same manner, though more intimately.

When Dean woke, Castiel noted the change in breathing and heart rate, but he still couldn't see Dean, with his head tucked where it was. He lifted his head slowly after a moment to look at the hunter, searching his eyes. "Did you sleep well?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, slept great, but... think you could get off me?" With how badly he needed to go to the bathroom, he couldn't quite be bothered to ask nicely. Thankfully Castiel obliged and Dean was up and out of bed in one fluid motion, making his way for the bathroom. He knocked the door with his heel so it would close a little and then made swift work of his morning routine.

Coming back out with his toothbrush, he looked over at Cas who was still in his bed, and that thought did things to him that it probably shouldn't. It certainly wasn't like he'd never thought of Cas as attractive, but Castiel had been his brother's lover, and that made thinking about him seem like it should be some kind of taboo. Then again, there were tons of times in history where brother's would marry each others' widows left behind by their deaths.

"Yuu a'ight?" He asked around his toothbrush, glad that he could use it as an excuse to not talk much right now.

"Yes. I'm fine," he lied softly, giving a small nod and rubbing his hands together before giving a sigh. "I appreciate you letting me rest with you last night. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"'eah. 'O pro'lem." Dean frowned, annoyed at how hard it was to talk with a mouth full of toothpaste foam and a toothbrush. He held up a finger and went back into the bathroom to spit it all out. "Nah, you were fine. Just had to go to the bathroom after all that alcohol last night."

Castiel didn't need to know all the crazy thoughts running around in his head. Nope. He'd just keep those to himself and go look at some porn.

Of women. Nice, chesty women.

Who weren't angels.

Dean realized this could become a problem.

Castiel nodded slowly, clearing his throat and standing to turn and face the Winchester. Running his hand over his face and then through his hair, he glanced around the room, glad that he didn't have to go through some normal human tendencies. He let himself remember the night before, the way Dean had held him close and kissed his forehead. It had been so comforting, so reminiscent of his times with Sam.

It had patched a little of hurt in him, or felt like it. Either way, the angel felt better than he had in months.

Sliding his hands into his pockets to clench them into  fists, he looked back up at Dean.

"Is the anything else you need?"

In that moment, all the thoughts of what he normally did on any day went flying from Dean's mind, as it took Castiel's words and twisted them around in all sorts of ways. Clearing his throat to buy himself a few seconds, he finally pulled together enough of his thoughts to respond. "Well, if you want to look for jobs, could always use another hunt." He nodded to the laptop, even though he knew the angel could search infinitely faster in person, but then he'd be alone with his thoughts, and he wasn't sure if that would be worse or not.

Sitting down at the small table, he pulled over the newspaper and unfolded it, tucking Sam's old marker behind his ear. There was something calming in this, in the minutia of readying for a case, hunting through stacks of newspapers, checking supplies, gathering your focus. In the hunt it was all high emotions and adrenaline pumping and reckless abandon; but this was so much the opposite. Here he could sit in a room with Cas, simply enjoying each other's company without words needing to be said or things explained.

It was reminiscent of the early days of hunting with Sam, when they hadn't betrayed each other, but were still learning to trust. Honestly, it felt like a fresh beginning or a second chance, neither of which Dean was accustomed to getting.

 

* * *

 

Dean looked up at the ceiling, reduced to counting how many watermarks there were to keep from turning over to the angel at his side and asking what the hell they were doing. This had all started out making sense. Get drunk now and then, collapse into bed, wake up and not acknowledge anything was going on. That was something he could understand. But now, more often than not, he was waking up with Castiel in his arms, wrapped around his side, and he really didn't know what to think about any of this anymore.

It certainly didn't help that besides sleeping together in this oddly platonic manner, Castiel hadn't given any hints that he wanted anything else. So Dean had let it go, given it a month, then two, thinking that eventually either Cas would get out of the funk he was in and not need their communal sleeping arrangements any more or he'd clue Dean in on what the hell was going on.

And it really didn't help that he kept fantasizing about something more, it really didn't. He had so much pent up frustrations, that he'd taken to going out almost every other night to hunt for women to share a bed with. All he had to do was remind himself how great women were, right? Just enjoy a nice hourglass figure and a charming smile for a few hours to not think about the angel who'd be in his bed the next night.

It certainly wasn't like Castiel was God's gift to men either, he wasn't some sculpted body builder or male model, but then again, if he was, Dean probably wouldn't be having this problem. What he knew from waking up next to Cas was that the angel was firm muscles under a thin layer of fat, a far too flexible physique to think about, and a permanent five o'clock shadow that scratched lightly at his skin first thing in the morning. But he was also the closest thing Dean had probably ever had to a friend, which really overshadowed everything else.

Of course, Cas wasn't the first man who Dean had noticed as appealing, but he was certainly the first who'd he'd actively contemplated starting anything with. John had always made it rather obvious what was expected of him, and men had never been on that agenda.

But Cas...

Dammit, Cas.

Turning his attention to the angel, he sat up and looked over at him, the light from the streetlamp outside the only illumination in the darkened room. "Cas, what is this?"

Castiel had spent the months in relative peace, sleeping in the same bed as another warm body helped repair his sense of self more than the drinking had, more than talks full of lies had, and he had grown accustomed to Dean's presence every other night, when the hunter wasn't busy drowning his sorrows in more carnal pursuits. Sometimes the angel felt himself grow a bit jealous when the spot in Dean's bed was taken by a pretty woman, even two on one occasion, but a reminder that he had no claim on Dean or his affections made him remember that this was something Dean needed, and Castiel had no right to take it from him, or request he stop. If Dean was happy, Castiel should be too. It was all he'd worked for.

Castiel would be piling more lies on top of those he already laid if he said that sometimes he didn't wonder what it would feel like to have lips on his again, to feel skin on skin again, but these thoughts were pushed far, far to the back of his mind and were never acted upon or revealed. Castiel couldn't fall in  love again, and certainly not with Dean. What would the angel do if the hunter grew unhappy with him? He couldn't lose his reason for living. Not yet.

So when Dean sat up unexpectedly one night, and turned his attention to the drunken angel who lay sprawled on his back next to Dean, muttering a question Castiel didn't know how to answer, the angel felt dread rise in him.

"What is what, Dean?" he responded softly, almost meekly.

"This, us, whatever it is that's going on." Dean replied, obviously annoyed that he didn't have a better way to word what he wanted to know. "Sleeping together isn't exactly normal, right? And I'm not saying that I don't... Just... Cas, is this all?" He ran a hand through his hair and tried to sort his thoughts into order, but mostly he had to drag his gaze away from Castiel's lips. "What I mean is..."

Talking had never been his strong suit. Could he just pull Cas into a kiss and let it drop if Cas disappeared on him? It certainly sounded like a better plan than sitting here and trying to get words to explain anything, but he'd make one more attempt. After all, the last thing he wanted to do now was drive Cas away.

Castiel felt dread and fear well in his stomach, dark and black and suffocating as Dean continued to speak. He thought now was the time that Dean would tell him to stop, to just be the angel he was supposed to be, not the baby in a trenchcoat he felt like. Sleeping together wasn't normal. Not that Dean they were poster children for normal. Cas didn't even know what normal was and Dean was raised in a manner exactly the opposite conducive to normality.

"I know that you and Sam were together, so maybe this is too soon, maybe you're not over him yet, but sleeping next to you has me wishing you were. I..."

No, just go for kissing, actions were always easier to work with than words.

The angel tipped his head when Dean asked if sleeping was all, confused by the wording. Did the hunter think they had done more while they were both drunk? He opened his mouth, and then Dean brought Sam into the mix. The bigger picture was beginning to take shape and make sense to the angel, and his stomach gave a nasty flip that left the angel reeling even if his back was firmly planted on the bed. All the work to remain platonic, to remain friends, all the work to forget secret wants, to ignore the hidden desires....

Reaching out, Dean placed one hand on Castiel's shoulder to hopefully keep him in place, and then he bent down and kissed the angel. He was halfway proud that he was at least able to keep control of the kiss, something far softer and less invasive than he normally would use. Moving back so that he could gauge Cas' response, he added, "Well?"

Castiel looked at Dean's hand on his shoulder, brows coming together and lips parting slightly. By the time he'd looked back up at Dean, the hunter was already leaning down, and Castiel's mind blanked as Dean kissed him. His hand came up, falling over Dean's and squeezing with an unspoken need, before he was faced with that single question.

Turmoil bubbled in his expression, as he was at once hit with several different options, things he could say, things he could do, things he should say and do.

"I... I..." he stuttered out, pinned by beautiful green eyes. "I have to breath." he said lamely, before disappearing in a flash.

He came to rest in a desert, dark and cool with the night, barren, with the moon hanging low. Licking his lips and lowering his head, he trembled. He'd avoided the Fallen and his vessel for nearly a year, and had intended to avoid them until it was inevitable, but he was so lost again, so conflicted, that the directionless angel world take help from anywhere.

"Sam? Lucifer?" he whispered out, wondering if he could even be heard as he stretched his grace along the natural energy channels of the world to forward the quiet plea.

Meanwhile Dean stared at the empty spot on the bed beside him.

. . . Dammit. Looks like he'd royally screwed that one up.

 

* * *

 

Lucifer and Sam had spent the past week far, far away from Earth, exploring worlds that human eyes would never see, however their Grace resounded with the small, helpless call from Castiel. It wasn't even a question of whether or not they would answer that helpless plea. So one instant they were just off the shoulder of a star, and the next they were standing on Earth's cold crust, placing a light touch of Grace to Castiel's wings.

"You seem troubled, Castiel." Lucifer stated, taking in the less than tranquil angel. For Castiel to have called them it must have been something serious, as last they'd parted, the younger angel had seemed only too excited to never see them again, or at least until his time with Dean was done.

Sam watched on, still silent, but interested to hear what had happened. Castiel would never understand their bond, Lucifer and Sam, for while he had a vessel, Jimmy had never been a true vessel, had never shared a mind with Castiel. He simply hadn't been made to do that, to take an angel into himself and make them a part of him. Sam was, and after almost a year, there were days where Sam and Lucifer had no start or finish, no edges separating them at all. He wouldn't say they were completely of one accord or opinion, but they were most certainly two halves of a whole.

"I think I'd be safe in assuming this has something to do with Dean." Lucifer added, trying to help Castiel get words out.

The younger Seraph turned, folding his wings to his back, brows furrowing as Lucifer's grace enveloped the entire area. Were it guided, Castiel knew it could make an oasis, right here, in this spot, in the midst of the barren, haunting land. Castiel swallowed, lifting his eyes to Sam's, feeling as if he would drop to his knees instantly as he looked over Sam's familiar face. It didn't belong to Sam any longer, was, shared, rather, but Castiel could no longer feel where one ended and the other began.

He stared as a fledgling that had broken it's wing falling out of it's nest might, a mixture of longing and pain and the certain knowledge that he was doomed to be picked off by predators sooner rather than later.

What could he say now, what could he tell them? He floundered, his words stuck in his throat until Lucifer prodded him, reminded him of Dean, and what had just transpired.

"I..I ... Yes." he breathed, letting his head drop. "Sam," he spoke to Sam instead of Lucifer, not knowing whether his hunter could hear him or not. "Dean... He.. I don't know what to do." Reaching out with a tendril of his grace to catch and tangle with Sam and Lucifer's, he fed all the memories of the past few months along to them both, so they could understand what he was referencing.

Looking up at them, eager for direction, the angel waited, hoped they would understand and know how to help him. If not Lucifer, then Sam might be able to offer some insight to his brother's actions.

Lucifer and Sam watched Castiel's memories, and the archangel simply pushed Sam to the forefront, both of them knowing that Lucifer would be about as much help in this situation as an icecube in a fire. So Sam took control of his body, softened the lines of his form and the angles of his stance, ever the gentle giant. "Well, from this, it looks like Dean is interested in you Cas."

Watching them both, Castiel’s expression was guarded and quiet as he felt Lucifer gently push Sam forward. He saw the change in Sam's body as well, blue eyes studying the lines he had learned almost as well as Jimmy's, his own vessel. A streak of ugly jealousy ran through him briefly as he realized that he would never have that to himself again, and he had to turn his gaze away to keep from letting it flash in his eyes, jealousy was a sin, and though it no longer mattered if he felt it, it was still hard to break the habit of feeling shameful over it.

He moved forward and placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Before he kissed you he was trying to ask you what you wanted from him, because he obviously has started to like you. My brother, for all his bluster and bravado, isn't good with actual relationships. He can seduce women into one night stands all day long, because it doesn't mean anything, just some mututal fun. But you. You mean something to him, Cas."

Sam had watched them on his birthday, so hidden from view that even Castiel hadn't detected him. "You mean quite a lot to him. And knowing him, he's worried that it's too soon, or that you would feel guilty switching to him after loving me." He was quiet for a moment, dropping his hand away from Castiel and looking out into the night sky. "Dean wants you, and it seems like you want him as well, but you've been so cautious not to ask for anything." Closing his eyes, he drew in a breath, holding it for a few counts before letting it out slowly.

When he talked again, his tone was somber, "Cas, you deserve happiness. You do. You might not understand it, but I never blamed you, and never will. We've both made mistakes, but we always made them for the right reasons, so that has to count for something." Opening his eyes once more, he looking into Castiel's eyes and nodded. "Don't make another one by being afraid to hurt Dean, he's a big boy and can handle himself."

Looking at the hand that settled on his shoulder, so much like Dean's, and yet so different, the angel shuffled his wings and shifted them, clearing his throat quietly. "I... I know that.." he started softly, and then closed his eyes.

"I mean.. I understood when he kissed me. But, Sam, what do I do? I... You didn't love me. What if he doesn't? What if he becomes unhappy that I am not female? What if he grows tired of me? I can't lose him too. Sam, I don't want to be more if I could lose him." Castiel looked up, his eyes earnest and lost, his thoughts of his failures and fears clear in them.

"And even if we... were together, when he dies, he'll go..." he glanced up, not saying the words, though his meaning was implied. "I'll never see him again. I can't go back to that place." He already felt like his heart was breaking, as if there were anything left to be broken. How strange was it to not only take a mortal as a lover, but then lie to that mortal's kin so they could live a life of peace. Stranger still to consider becoming lovers with that kin.

"Sam, knowing what's coming-- I don't know if happiness is an option for me. But I want to make him happy. I just, I need to know how."

Sam tentatively reached out, pulling Castiel into an embrace slowly enough that he could get away is he wanted. Then he poured soothing Grace over him, trying his best to help calm him. "Oh Cas, I know you won't understand this now, but I am sorry that I didn't love you more, didn't love you in the way you needed. Lucifer has been able to help give me... perspective.” It was true, he was sorry that they hadn't worked out, sorry that he'd hurt Castiel in all the ways he had; and now, all he wanted was for Castiel to find joy and peace and the redemption Castiel felt he needed.

"But Cas, that's the whole beauty of being human, of loving humans. We aren't eternal, we don't exist unchanged throughout the centuries. We burn brightly, in our short lives, and we're all the more beautiful for it. Dean burns brightest of us all, but whenever he made a try at something, he stuck with it." Thinking back, Sam realized that every time Dean had found something special, he'd abandoned it to go back to Sam.

Damn, their relationship really hadn't been healthy.

But now with Sam supposedly dead, perhaps Dean could finally live for himself a little.

"I'm not saying that it will be easy, or that you'll never have problems. But Dean is a good man, and if you want to go down this road, I have no doubt that he would cherish you single mindedly. That's just how he is." It also didn't help that Sam had already had Jess, so that part of his heart was gone. He couldn't have given Cas everything even if he wanted to.

Ah, but I like to think I brought that back for you... Lucifer whispered through his mind, curling around his Soul.

Yeah, you really did. Sam replied, realizing that it hadn't even been a year, but Lucifer had filled in all his holes, repaired his cracks, and made him new again. It seemed unfair to look down and see Castiel still so broken when he himself was finally whole again.

Castiel didn't pull away from the embrace, he did exactly the opposite and leaned into it, closing his eyes as comforting grace melted over him like warm water. He exhaled softly, surprised to realize that Sam was happy, actually happy this way. Happier than Castiel could have ever made him with his paltry amount of Grace. He felt sick for a moment, but tucked his chin over Sam's shoulder anyway, closing his eyes and just willing himself to listen.

It was odd. So odd to hear Sam talk of himself as human again, when for so long he had spoken with the belief that he was a monster. It was comforting too, somehow, to know that even if he had said Yes, Sam still believed in his humanity. A thing that would not exist for much longer. It would all go with Dean, and Sam would be the only trace left. Ironic, considering that Lucifer hated humanity with such a passion.

He couldn't help the tremble in his limbs though, and Castiel thought of how weak he must seem. Once strong and proud, now he stood asking advice from the very brother he had once stood against.

"You're giving me---us your blessing?" he breathed, trying out the word 'us' in the same context Dean had.

"I... I guess I am," Sam replied. "Although you don't need my blessing, Cas. You and Dean are the people whom I love the most in this entire, god forsaken existance, and if you can find some comfort, joy in each other, then I'm happy for you." Running gentle fingers through Castiel's hair, he smiled softly, "I know how well you'd take care of him, Cas, how well you'd love and protect him. And I know that Dean will say stupid things and he'll hurt your feelings, but at the end of the day he'll cling to you like you're the only thing keeping him afloat, like you're his air supply."

"He's proud, and he's never had it easy. But he's a good man..."

Sam's words stilled to silence, and he held Castiel's head against his shoulder so he wouldn't look up and see the pain written across his face, for as happy as Sam now was, he was plagued by the reality that he would never again be able to be with his brother, could never say hello, could never watch his back in a fight, could never be there in his last moments.

"So if you can make him happy, please.... please do, Cas. He deserves a little happiness after it all, you both do."

Castiel closed his eyes, blotting out the view of the world and giving a soft sigh. He still hadn't lifted his hands to return the embrace, for he wasn't certain how Lucifer would handle it, or if it would be frowned upon, but somehow hearing Sam say these things made the fact that they would never be together again so much more real. Castiel was aware he was giving up, but he was too tired to fight or argue. They both knew at this point that Castiel would strip his own grace from his bones if he thought it would help Dean. He knew what Sam said was the truth, he'd seen it for himself in his time watching over the brothers.

The only question left was would Castiel be able to handle it all. Would the angel be able to cope when all was said and done?

He couldn't see Sam's pain, didn't know the younger Winchester still suffered. His eyes remained closed as he nodded once, and then twice, taking the task upon himself to make Dean happy. If that meant his company, if that meant his body, so be it. Dean had always held a special place in his heart.

"I will. I'll try." he promised softly. "I'll do my best." Three sets of wings drooped as the angel took another deep breath, before looking up to search Sam's face again. Would the pair of them scoff at him when he returned, an angel devoted to serving a human instead of his father, or anyone else they might deem more worthy?

Looking down at the ground again, he sighed again, deeply.

"Alright." He had a direction, a request to follow, and it felt better than he wanted to admit to not be the one in control again. "Thank you... for coming,” he finally managed, remembering his manners.

Sam stepped back, letting go of Castiel. "It was my pleasure, Cas." His eyes lost focus for a moment, and then Lucifer was standing before Castiel, the change in control over Sam's body immediate and all too obvious.

"Castiel, as one angel to another, do not worry about Father. He has abandoned us, and we are the Fallen who no one cares for. If Dean makes you happy, at all, hold onto him, make him your flock, and don't let him go for anything in the world."

Castiel let his arms hang limply as Sam stepped back, watching the change roll over the Winchester's body like a wave on the shore. He almost took a step back, but stood his ground, blue eyes meeting hazel, the tips of his wings gently brushing the ground as he watched his brother with wary eyes.

Lucifer understood, far better than Castiel would likely ever be willing to admit, just how painful it was to be separated from Heaven and directionless; but where he had his pride and his hatred to push him through the countless years until he found Sam, Castiel was truly broken. It was a fate that Lucifer would never wish upon Castiel. With one last touch of his Grace, Lucifer disappeared, leaving Castiel alone in the gathering dark.

"You're giving me the advice to hang onto a human? " The younger asked softly almost incredulously to the air, after the pair of souls sharing one body had disappeared. He shifted, and slowly sat in the dunes, closing his eyes to rest his chin on his knees for a few hours, concentrating on breathing to clear his mind. Only when the heat from the day had faded completely from the grains of sand under him, did the angel open his eyes again, ready to face the rest of his life.

For a few decades, he would try to forget what awaited humanity, and try to make it the best life possible for the last Winchester.

Grains of sand hissed as they cascaded to the ground as Castiel disappeared from beneath them.

 

* * *

 

Abruptly, he was standing in the hotel room he and Dean had shared, hands curled inside his trench coat as he looked for Dean. He had no way of knowing if the elder Winchester was still there, with the Enochian Sigils on his ribs, but he hoped he was.

"Dean?"

Dean was sitting by the table, his feet up as he sat slumped in his chair, a bottle of Jack in his hand, dangling from lax fingers. When he felt the familiar disturbance, a preternatural hush to the air before that all too familiar pop, he looked over at Castiel with bloodshot eyes. It was obvious that he'd been drinking, a lot. "Ah, welcome back Cas." And while his pose would suggest that he was about to pass out from the alcohol, his voice was clear and strong, if somewhat sullen.

"Listen, about earlier. I'm... I didn't mean to..." He struggled to find the right words and ended up just shaking his head. "Sorry." With a small shrug, he sat up and grasped the bottle's neck a little tighter, raising it towards the angel. "You want some?"

At first he'd beaten himself up, then he'd silently cursed Castiel a little, but then he decided to go back to blaming himself and washing down all that self hatred with a good heaping dose of self medication. Alcohol really did work wonders, because now he could look at Castiel and not second guess if Cas cared or not, he just didn't care at the moment. Some days he was sure that this state of chemically induced apathy would be far preferable to emotions.

Some days, most days.

"Was the air out there good?" He asked, the apparent non sequitur making sense in his mind as he remembered that Cas' excuse to run away was that he needed to breathe. What had been wrong with the air in the hotel? Hell, he was a vessel, and angels didn't need to breathe.

Castiel's fingers twitched and then tightened as he watched Dean, all too aware that he had reached the same level of drunkenness more that once, and suddenly he knew what he wanted to do. What would bring them both a bit of happiness perhaps. Compromise had to be reached if Castiel want to be certain he couldn't mess up again. Perhaps he'd mess this up too, but maybe, just maybe, he could be enough.

"Don't be sorry, Dean." he said softly, holding a hand up to pause the hunter.

"I don't want anything to drink right now." He moved forward the few steps, closing the distance between them and setting two fingers on Dean's forehead, burning every last bit of the alcohol from his system. "You shouldn't be drunk for this particular conversation either."

Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, Castiel dropped his fingers and looked at Dean quietly, ignoring his question about air as he took a step back. There was no reason to back down now. This was a question that he needed answered before he could decide what happened next. Moving forward to cup Dean's cheeks in his hands, he stared at the hunter unwaveringly.

"Would you be willing to give up hunting to be with me? As lovers? If that is even what you were asking me about."

Dean was suddenly dragged out of his pleasant haze, and he really wasn't sure he wanted to have this conversation sober, but it looked like that was out of his hands now.

"What? Uh..." He blinked a few times, mentally trying to process Castiel's question. Talk about coming out of left field. "Cas..." Leaning forward, he covered his mouth with his hand as he tried to take some time to think about this. It would be a lie if he said that hunting was the only life he knew, he'd tried, honestly tried, for a whole year to live the apple pie, normal life. Not that it had gone all that well. But hunting, that was his life.

He had no idea that Castiel didn't, what? Like it? Want him doing it?

"What brought this up?" Dean instinctually could tell that they were toeing the edge of a precipice where they'd either edge around it or fall in, and he wasn't sure which was preferable.

"I mean, hunting is what I do, who I am. Has been my whole life." Something about asking him to give up hunting hurt. "You never said anything against it before. And don't get me wrong, I think... us, we could work. I just don't get why you're suddenly asking for... this."

Castiel continued to stand in front of Dean, watching the emotions play across his face, watching his hunter drop from a place where he didn't care, to something more grounded. He licked his lips, furrowed his brows, and watched the hunter closely. It had been the wrong thing to ask Dean, and he knew it quickly. He took a step back, giving the hunter his space, casting his eyes to the floor in something close to submission.

"I was just curious." he breathed softly. "I just wanted wanted to know."  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "It's fine if you don't wish to. I'm sorry."

"If you want me, Dean. You can have me. I am not a female, but.. I want you to be happy, and I enjoy spending time with you. If you think I can satisfy you sexually, I will try my best." he breathed. "Just tell me what to do. Tell me what you want. You know I will give you anything I can."

Taking a deep breath, he sat on the edge of the bed before looking up, rubbing at his own wrists gently as he found Dean's eyes.

"I went to talk to Sam. He gave us his blessing," he breathed softly, after several seconds of silence.

Dean forced himself to listen to everything that Castiel had to say, growing more and more dismayed by how passive Castiel was being. It didn't strike him as right for Cas to be so subservient, especially to him. Cas had as much right as the next guy to have opinions and wants, needs and desires.

And just as he was about to reply, Castiel's last statement hit him like a blow to his gut. "You... what?" Sam was dead. Castiel was a Fallen angel, he wasn't even sure if Cas could get into Heaven anymore, but he'd talked to Sam. Did that mean that Sam wasn't in Heaven, was in Hell? He shook his head to keep himself from jumping to conclusions. "Cas, how? How did you talk to Sam?"

He hated the flare of hope that welled up in his chest, the impossible dream that somehow, Cas could bring Sam back and sure it might seem awkward if he was suddenly banging Castiel and Sam came back, but they'd all be together again. But that simply wasn't something he could let himself hope for, he couldn't go down that road; because when it inevitably turned out that it was something beyond Cas or impossible or whatever problem would arise, he'd only be losing Sam all over again.

"I went.. I snuck into Heaven, to see Sam," Castiel said softly, lowering his head and rubbing at his knees before licking his lips once more. "I asked him what to do, for guidance. He said he just wanted us to be happy."

"He's-- He’s happy. He's at peace, and he just wants us both to be happy," he explained softly, looking back up at Dean. "It's hard for me to get back to Heaven, but I did. I had to see him." He closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face scratching at the stubble somehow and feeling slightly sickened by more lies on top of the ones he was already wrapped in.

Standing, he shifted forward, reaching out to touch Dean's forehead again, giving Dean the conversation he'd had with Sam. Or the parts that mattered anyway. No visuals accompanied the voices, because that was something that he would keep for his own, he'd need to keep to himself. Some parts were omitted, but much was left intact.

Lowering his hand to Dean's shoulder, he looked down into those green eyes again, tipping his head slightly and running the back of his hand down Dean's cheek before dropping it and simply waited for Dean to process everything at his own pace.

Sam was in Heaven? And he was happy? That was the best news that Dean had heard in such a long time. He'd been so worried, worried that Heaven wouldn't accept Sam because he was an Abomination or because he'd said yes to Lucifer, or because of the demon blood. There were a million reasons that he'd had to fear for his brother's soul. Hearing that Sam was safe and content, well it lifted a huge burden off of his shoulders that he hadn’t even realised that he'd been carrying.

"Thank you," he said, gazing down at his own hands. Then Castiel was giving him the memories of talking to Sam, and he lowered his face to his hands, covering it completely as he listened to his brother's voice.

The angel stood unobtrusively to the side as he watched each emotion take it's turn on Dean's face and scrawl itself across the hunter's body. He'd could have sworn he'd told Dean before that he'd taken Sam's soul to Heaven, but perhaps just now, it was finally sinking in. He could only offer a nod as Dean thanked him, unable to scrape up the words it would require to make the lie more believable. So he simply allowed Dean to hear his brother's voice, the conversation he'd had where Castiel had all but begged for guidance.

"There is no reason to thank me." he said softly, earnestly, wanting to wrap the hunter in his arms and grace. He hated to see Dean's back bowed so low. He hated to see the handsome young man injured so deeply that Castiel could not reach the wounds of the soul. He didn't move as Dean stood, having to tilt his eyes up just slightly to follow the taller hunter.

If Sam was alright with this, then Dean realized he certainly couldn't think of anything else to say; so he stood up and looked Cas in the eye, deciding it was time to give the man his answer.

"Cas, I don't care that you're not female. I'll admit that it tripped me up at first, and it might again, but I say we give this a shot. Alright?" Dean certainly wasn't going to win any awards tonight for rousing declarations of undying love, but he hoped it got his point across.

Castiel could already feel his vessel responding to his anticipation and nerves, throat drying up and heart pounding. His fingers worried at the edges of his trench coat sleeves, but other than that, he only offered a tiny nod. There was nothing else he could do by try, right?

It was better than not attempting anything at all and just living life as it came.

"Alright," he nodded, trying to convince himself that this wasn't a terrible idea and that this would be the day he lost everything.

Dean swallowed past a lump in his throat, his eyes roaming opening over Castiel. It would probably be smart to start slow, right? Just let things happen naturally, no pressure, no stress. Certainly no pushing Castiel down onto the bed and taking him out of that trench coat and suit, one article of clothing at a time while he attacked his face with an endless stream of kisses. No, of course not.

Reaching out, he pulled Cas towards him, their eyes locked on each other, only to have his dip down to Castiel's lips.

Pacing, it was all about pacing.

"Fuck it," Dean growled out as he pulled Castiel's face towards his, lips crashing and only barely restraining himself enough so their teeth didn't clink.

Ok, so he'd never been good at waiting, especially when both sides were willing and waiting.

Castiel had received plenty of looks over his time with the Winchesters,  and he hadn't failed notice the way Dean constantly watched his lips. He's checked in the mirror once or twice, just to be sure there was nothing abnormal about them. It had been gradually dawning on him what that look meant, and when Dean leaned forward, the angel was more that willing to oblige, meeting Dean for a deep, hungry kiss.

A hand lifted to the back of Dean's nape, and the angel grabbed at short golden locks as he stepped up to the hunter, pressing himself against Dean's body from hip to chest with a soft gasp.

It was all an act, a carefully considered set of moves that would let the human know how much the angel wanted him, when the truth was that Castiel was not over Sam, and doubted he ever would be. He didn't know if he would ever be ready for another lover. Or even willing to love so deeply again, but everything he was belonged to Dean, and would until the end of his lifespan.

He would love the man physically, emotionally, do everything in his power to protect the hunter for as long as he could, but he wasn't in love with Dean. He could pretend to be... And so he would, if it made Dean happy.

As excited as Dean was by the prospect of Castiel wanting him back, of Sam having posthumously giving his blessing, and this whole new chapter in sexuality that he'd never actively explored, he was still somewhat nervous. Deciding that it would be best not to dive right into the main event tonight, and only slightly driven out of his mind by what Castiel was doing to his neck, he pulled Castiel back with him, until he was sitting on one of the chairs with Castiel straddling his lap.

That really wasn't fair, the way Castiel seemed to know exactly where along his jugular was the most sensitive or the lightest of breathes that he puffed against his skin, tickling and barely there. So Dean retaliated by shucking off that wonderful trench coat, moving in to reclaim Castiel's mouth as his hands found the tie and pulled, holding him in place with it like a leash. There was something titillating when he moved one hand down, worming his way under Castiel's shirt, and he felt strong abs under his fingers instead of the softer flesh of a woman; however it only got better as he traced the slightest of pressure along that stomach and felt the muscles jump and quiver at his touch. But he'd have more fun with that later, because right now he just needed to feel Cas, to see exactly what had been sleeping next to him all this time.

So he let go of his death grip on the man's tie to undo the buttons of his shirt, fingers confident in the practiced motions. He pushed the dress shirt off and decided that it was high time to let his hands roam a little.

Castiel didn't know it and he would not have guessed, that when angels chose a mate, the first bond was always strongest. Monogamous and faithful until the end, an angel that took a mortal mate was setting itself up for heartbreak if that mortal could not go to heaven when they passed. Castiel's heart still belonged to Sam, would almost certainly belong to Sam even if he gave a piece of it to Dean for safe-keeping. For Castiel, his and Sam's separation had literally caused a part of him to wither and die. He was not whole, and could never be again, even if he chose another.

He moved forward Dean, allowing his body to relax into the familiar sensations of another's touch beyond platonic. It was not un-enjoyable, but it wasn't the same, not that he wanted it to be. What he and Sam had belonged to them alone. This was something new, something different. The chair creaked as he let Dean lead him, but by no means was he as passive as he had been at the start of he and Sam's physical relationship. He knew what he was doing now, and he knew how to do it well.

He rolled his hips even when Dean kept his neck held in place, panting softly as he suckled on the hunter's upper lip, allowing Dean to help him out of his clothing at his own pace. The coat fell with a rustle and he pressed his body into the hot hand that slid under his shirt. He shuddered, pulled his mouth back to breath as Dean let his tie go, shoving the Winchester's field jacket off roughly, dipping his head to nip lightly at the junction of Dean's neck and shoulder, before sliding his own fingertips up under Dean's shirt, spreading his fingers as he gave a soft pant, running his thumbs over Dean's hips and pressing the ridges of bone gently, his tie dangling over and tracing the small area of skin exposed at the bottom edge of Dean's shirt.

Dean felt Cas move against him, and oh, that right there was something that made it real obvious that Cas wasn't a woman. This was ok, he could figure this out. His fantasies had just been a little vague on the details is all. And it certainly wasn't like he was having any problems being turned on by the angel in his arms. So he closed his eyes and just tried to get lost in the expanse of skin underneath his hands, his mouth, his tongue. Castiel was everywhere.

As Castiel's tie moved back and forth over his navel, he couldn't exactly ignore the sensation or the thrill it sent through his body, but he didn't want to be distracted from the things that Castiel was actively doing to his hips, to his neck, so he reached up and pulled tie off of him, throwing it to the floor. Then he gripped Castiel's hair, his neck, fingers tightening as the suction on his skin started to hurt, sending an electric jolt through his body, and suddenly he knew he needed more now, he just wasn't exactly sure how to go about getting it, giving it.

The angel murmured as Dean reached up to pull his tie off, rolling his hips against the hunter's again as he pinched the hips lightly and then slid his hands up the expanse of Dean's sides, feeling the sinew move underneath the skin with each motion. Dean wasn't as big as Sam, but his body was no less fit, even for all of his bacon burgers and beer. The life of a hunter required one be in shape, and there was no doubt the Winchester was.

Castiel's breath came harder as he felt Dean's need in the rough grip of his hands, and the angel bit at one clavicle through the shirt the Winchester wore, leaving a small wet spot that he eyed for a moment before pushing the hunter's shirt off all the way, leaving them both only in pants. He attacked Dean's mouth then, pressing the length of his body up against Dean's roughly before moving his mouth back to the man's neck, his ear, his jaw, peppering them all with kisses. It made him glad to know that Dean was sexually attracted to him, it would be hard to miss that, and it was somewhat, though not totally relieving as he settled back to listen to Dean's laugh.

This was worse than those first fumbling meetings in broom closets and under the bleachers.

So he laughed, a sort of manic chuckle that spoke his aggravation at his own inexperience than words ever could, "So, Cas, do I just throw you on the bed at this point or is there some sort of prep, foreplay you like?" He knew he had some lube in his bag, but was that even the right type? Did you need a special type for this? Dammit! He did not want to feel like a freakin' virgin again, there was simply too much anxiety attached to it; not knowing what to do, not knowing if you were doing it right, doing it well.

Meeting those green eyes, the angel tipped his head to the side searchingly before realizing that Dean was asking because he didn't know what to do. Sam had seemed perfectly knowledgeable, but Cas had only seen Dean exclusively with women.

"It depends, Dean. On whether you would like to take me, be taken, or simply engage in sexual activities without penetration," he said softly, running his fingertips lightly over the front of the mortal's throat and down over his chest. "There are certain preparations involved with certain activities... Though I'm sure you know that." He plucked idly at one of Dean's nipples, his eyes kind and thoughtful. "Do you have any idea what you would enjoy most?"

"I've always been the one in the driving seat, so, yeah." Dean replied, eyes roaming Castiel's body in front of him, even though he was trying to look at his eyes. "So if you could maybe just tell me what in the world I'm supposed to do, we could just dive in and get this awkward moment over with?" He hated the slight tremble in his voice, hated that he couldn't tell if it was there because of excitement or intimidation or simply nerves. So he held onto Castiel's hips and bucked, pushing hard off the ground to raise up under Castiel's weight. "Yeah, just not the hole I'm generally used to, s'all."

So he held onto Cas tight and stood up, carefully balancing the other man's weight. Just to get a little payback for how much easier Cas seemed about all this, he hiked Cas up against his hips, knowing what the friction would do. Then he looked up at those eyes that had always been so serious, so somber, and he was almost surprised to see them dilated and hazy. Well, who knew, angels really did get off on this. Somehow he'd always just assumed that Cas did it for Sam because he thought his brother needed it; which he was beginning to realize was a real dickish thing to think. But hey, everyone makes mistakes.

And right now, one mistake he didn't want to make was rushing. So a wall, that sounded good. Moving over, he pinned the angel between himself and the wall, a rather self satisfied smirk creeping onto his face. "How about you tell me a little about how this should go, hmm? Give me some time to go over all this in my head." He said as he pushed himself a little harder into Castiel's groin, wrapping Cas' legs around his waist.

Castiel nodded quietly and listened to his hunter, more than willing to take any roll Dean wanted of him. He was well enough versed in intercourse now to know what could be done, and how it should be done, and oh, Dean standing under him had his legs wrapping around the hunter's waist, fingers gripping at muscle as he was lifted with ease. It took him a moment to regather the thoughts that had scattered, and he exhaled heavily as Dean pulled him higher. The angel worked his hips a few times, wrapping one arm around Dean's neck with a soft groan as he enjoyed the friction.

He found himself looking back up just in time to be entranced by those large, expressive eyes and abruptly his ability to speak fled again. That was slightly annoying, so he drew himself closer again as he found himself sandwiched between a hunter's body and a hotel wall. He groaned again softly and closed his eyes, tipping his head back for a moment to breath.

"Well, usually one uses a generous amount of lubrication," he finally managed, his voice even more husky than normal. "And takes their time, inserting one finger first, and then more as the body adjusts." The angel spoke as if he was reading a cooking recipe, with no shame or tact at all. As an angel, there was no stigma associated with sex other than the sin of lust. "After that, your would use your cock," he said softly, using a word other than penis because Sam had told him once that cock sounded less medical.

"It's quite straightforward," he panted. "I am told the process is similar for both sexes. Of course, males don't make natural lubrication though. Do you need me to get some?"

Ok, see, no major surprises there. Give him a few practice rounds and he'd be ready for the majors in no time.

"I... I think I have some in my bag," Dean replied, trying his best not to get distracted by the flushing on Castiel's features. "Unless you need a special kind. Mine's water based, that good enough?" He vaguely remembered that Sam had prefered silicone based, and no, he didn't want to think of how he'd learned that. The last thing he'd want to do was screw this up, although maybe he was worrying too much. After all, Castiel was an angel, he could probably handle anything Dean could dish out, but the point was that he didn't want him to have to handle anything unpleasant.

Castiel pushed forward, pressing his lips back to Dean's neck, murmuring in his throat as he tried to avoid those eyes for the moment. Dean's stubble on his bottom lip was distracting enough, and soon enough the angel had laid several small red marks along Dean's neck. He'd grown fond of giving such marks, and still had the one from Sam on his collarbone, though he hardly ever looked at it anymore.

"I didn't know there was a certain kind," he confessed softly. "I suppose it will be fine as long as sexual lubrication is the purpose it is intended for." Blinking, he looked at the line of small hickeys and then ran his bottom lip up them in a surprisingly sensual gesture, exhaling slowly, and rolled his hips. He had learned many different things with Sam, and he was eager to learn what Dean liked best, so he could spend the rest of his life giving him everything.

"Yeah, there are. Main thing you need to know is don't use anything that's oil based, well, not inside your body anyway. I banged a..." And Dean's eyes fluttered closed for a moment as Castiel made yet another mark on his neck, the light pop of his lips pulling away was music to Dean's ears. "... A couple's sex counselor. Her whole job was helping couples learn more about each other, and, how'd she put it, be more expressive in their sexual displays. Or something like that." His thoughts completely derailed as Cas paid yet more attention to his neck, doing things with his mouth that really didn't seem appropriate for an angel, not that he was complaining.

Castiel’s free hand dropped to Dean's stomach, touching gently, and he exhaled softly as he fanned his fingers out.  

"Do you prefer to be gentle or rough?" he whispered, letting his nails lightly scratch Dean's abdomen as counterpoint to the sensual breath from a moment earlier.

But then Castiel's hand was on his stomach, his abdomen twitching against the light pressure, wishing it would go just a bit lower. "Oh wow... you really get right to the point." Sure, he had always enjoyed some play in his sex, trying new things, but he'd never quite felt the need to just dominate the women he was with, never got too rough with them for fear of hurting them. Honestly he'd never really even thought about it, it was just a limit he'd subconsciously given himself. "More on the... gentle side, I guess?" But words, words were really hard right now. "Yeah, gentlish sounds good about now. Why?"

Did Castiel like it rough? Giving, taking, what? And there again was that niggling worry of insecurity over not knowing enough.

Castiel wasn’t really particularly interested in Dean's previous partners, but he listened anyway, in case the hunter said something important or offered clues as to what he enjoyed, or wanted. He didn't really care about types of lubrication. All he cared about was Dean, and giving the Winchester exactly what he wanted. It seemed he was getting there, with the way Dean seemed to trail off in the middle of Castiel's touches.

Immediately at Dean's answer, Castiel's hand answered the hunter's question by become more gentle, switching to the pads of his fingertips rather than the nails, stroking in a soft manner instead of a more demanding way.

"Because everyone is different, and likes different things, and it can change depending on mood." Castiel explained. "I don't want to scratch you if you don't enjoy being scratched. Similarly, I do not want to be too passive if you enjoy a more active partner." he explained, giving another long roll of his hips as he found Dean's lips again and kisses him gently, but deeply.

Oh gods, Castiel was going to blow his ever lovin' mind if he kept this up. It was doing all sorts of terrible things to him to hear this, hear how much Castiel seemed to want to just please him. Normally, well normally the one night stands he had were nice, fun, all that, but they were in it just for themselves. Same as Dean. So hearing all this, well it was almost a more heady experience than the actual man in his arms, pressed against him.

Although there was still that small voice in the back of his head that couldn't accept that it was all about him. His life had never been about him, it'd been about John or Sam or the job or saving people. He'd taken time for himself when he could, but it had never been that big of a thing. "But what about what you want?" His question came out a little more husky, a little less inquisitive than he'd meant as Cas rolled into him, but his answer had to wait as Cas was suddenly kissing him again. That was alright. He was a sort of, not really at all, patient kind of guy. Screw it, his answer could wait forever if Cas kept doing things like this.

With one hand steadying them against the wall, he dropped his other hand from Castiel's waist, down to cup his ass. Now there was something. His fingers gripped at the muscle as he pushed his tongue into Castiel's mouth, sparring as his legs trembled slightly at the strain of keeping Castiel up.

The angel rolled his hips again as Dean's grip shifted, and he lifted both hands to run through the hunter's hair, pulling his head back for a moment to watch his eyes. Like Dean, Castiel's life had never been about him. It was all about following orders and directions, ensuring that the balance between Heaven and Hell was not upset. He had never taken time for himself, giving away what he had willingly to ensure the safety of friends. He trembled as he breathed, closing his eyes for a moment before pressing his forehead to the mortal's with a soft sigh.

"Dean," he started softly, not looking into the mortal's eyes. "Dean, you are what I want." he said softly. "I want you however you will have me." It was only a partial lie. He did want Dean to be happy, and he was not averse to physical contact. "I told you before," he continued, "I want to see you smile and laugh. I want to see you happy. I want to release you from the sorrows that chain you and bow your back. I want you to live as you were meant to, shining as brightly as you can. I want you to forget your regrets and your worries, and know that I will always do my best to be here for you." He nipped Dean's ear, tugging briefly and giving a soft groan as he dragged his chin along Dean's jaw.

Dean groaned, a reaction to the combination of Castiel's words and movements. "You... really shouldn't be this enticing..." With one strong push, he moved them away from the wall and walked over, tumbling onto the bed in an absolute tangle of limbs. The moment he was horizontal he started grinding against Castiel's hip where he'd landed, needed to get a little of this out of the way before he tried anything that would require his mental capacities again. And the way Cas writhed under him was, well heavenly might be a little too ironic a word, but it was. If his eyes hadn't already dilated with lust before, they certainly were now as he bent down and licked his way up Cas' stomach, starting at his navel and not stopping until he'd found a nipple to toy with.

"I should be enticing as possible when trying to attract a mate." the angel said softly, wrapping an arm around Dean's neck to hold himself steady as he was transferred from the wall to the bed. They fell together, and the angel took a moment to figure out which of the limbs belonged to him and which of them belonged to Dean. His breathing grew harsher as he felt Dean grind needily against him, and the angel ended up wriggling on the bed, feeling the coarse comforter under his back and Dean's tongue snaking it's way up his chest. The angel's eyelids fluttered as he arched his back, gasping softly as a mouth found his nipple. Digging his fingers into Dean's nape, the angel bit his own bottom lip hard enough to bruise it.

Now the lube, he really didn't want to let go of Cas to go get it, and as much as it was against his nature to just ask the angel to use his supernatural powers for mundane things, he was really considering it. "Cas..." he murmured against his skin, "think you could get the lube over here? It's in my backpack, front pocket, just don't go anywhere..."

Part of Castiel wondered if Dean could see Sam's mark, and what he would think about it, if he knew what it was, but the hunter hadn't seemed concerned, so Castiel didn't mention it. He simply nodded and brought himself to task, holding out his hand towards Dean's back, extending his grace to drag the zipper open and the requested bottle out slowly. It took more concentration to pull it to his hand with Dean's mouth on him, but he finally managed with rough groan. Pushing the bottle into Dean's hand and wrapping his own fingers around the bottle and the appendage, the angel shivered again and looked down.

It was different from what he and Sam had used, but reading the label certainly made it clear that it was lubrication. "Are... Are you sure about this, Dean?" Castiel finally asked, looking up at Dean. He didn't want to say just how broken he would be if Dean was simply 'trying him out', or he was some kind of experiment. He didn't want to be discarded if Dean realized that he only wanted women. But he couldn't put all of that into words.

Dean stopped, slowly pulling his tongue away from Castiel's nipple and pushing himself up so he was over him, able to look down into his eyes. Swallowing against a sudden dryness in his throat, he took a deep breath. "Honestly, not 100%, but that's my own nerves talking. I... I want to do this Cas, I really do." Perhaps it was because Castiel was the only one he had left, or because he was used to Cas being close and he wanted, maybe naively, to use this physical reassurance that Cas wouldn't leave him. But mostly, mostly it was because he'd slowly been falling for the quiet, morose, overly serious angel. He couldn't tell the future, couldn't say if it would still work ten years down the road, or even five, but how he wanted it to; and he had a sneaking suspicion that Cas needed something serious, not just a casual fuck now and then.

Somehow, he was almost certain, the angel didn't regard sex quite the same way most people did. Sam probably filled his head with ridiculous romantic mumbo jumbo.

So he locked eyes and stared long and deep, his breathing heavy as if he'd just run a marathon. When he tried to talk again, he had to cough to clear his throat, all sorts of emotions raging for supremacy in his mind. "I can't guarantee anything Cas, but I can tell you now that I want to try for something with you, not just tonight, but... Damn, I'm no good at this chick flick crap. Just know that I respect you, a lot actually, and I want you by my side, where I can protect you and you can protect me. Alright?" He forced himself to stay up there, feeling like he was towering on the edge of a skyscraper a million miles away from Castiel, fighting gravity and magnetism and all the other natural forces that were trying to send him hurtling towards Castiel.

Castiel offered a small smile at the words. It was enough. It had to be enough. Dean was being honest, which was more than the angel could say for himself. He couldn't bring himself to ask for more, just as he hadn't been able to insist Dean give up hunting. He couldn't ask Dean to give up anything else. He'd already lost so much in his life, and Castiel reminded himself that Dean would have whatever made him happy. If Castiel couldn't make him happy, he couldn't hold it against the hunter, though reassurance would have been welcome. Dean was telling him the truth, and that was one of the things Castiel treasured most, because of his own lies, his own deceit.

So he nodded, showing he accepted the answer for what it was, knowing that Dean could not promise him anything, but soothed a little to know that Dean would not push him away, whatever happened tonight. He would still be free to follow and protect, and love from a distance.

"Yes. Alright." he agreed softly, giving another nod, before pushing himself up on his elbows to raise himself to Dean's level. "If you decide that this isn't what you want, ever, please... Don't hesitate to tell me. I can handle it," he lied, before lifting one hand to cup Dean's nape, running his thumb over the shell of the mortal's ear before leaning forward to kiss the man gently on the lips again.

Dean just stared at Castiel in utter amazement. He'd always respected Castiel in his own, small way, but it had always been shrouded by this misconception that he was a child who needed to be protected, from the world, from himself. It was probably because Castiel had always been so alien, so infantile because he was so different than humans, even if he technically was one with his vessel. So Dean had always judged him by human standards, and yet not. Cas had been a tool to help achieve their goals, a deus ex machina to save their hides, a betrayer, a friend, an infant relearning how to interact with the world. But something about that small statement, while looking at the man spread out before him, finally cemented everything about Cas into a single picture.

This was an angel he was practically stradling, an ancient being who had a completely different understanding of love, and had been taught how to love in human ways by his younger brother. This was a force of nature wrapped inside a fragile vessel, made nearly indestructible by his Grace. This was the angel who had fallen from Heaven for them, him and Sam, because he cared more for them than for Heaven. Cas had given up everything for them, and they had hurt each other and been hurt by each other. A small surety started to take root, deep inside him, that this could work, would work.

"Cas..." But his words were halted by Castiel's lips on his, and he stared, eyes wide open, to memorize everything about him. When they broke apart, barely a hair's breadth, he almost smiled. "I'm certain that whatever happens tonight, I'll enjoy it, because it's..." You. The last word went unspoken, but he was fairly certain Cas would understand.


	16. We're On a Road to Nowhere

It was months later when Dean rolled over next to Castiel one night, and muttered something about a 'breather' that Castiel didn't understand. As usual, the angel had been awake, thinking of Sam, the future, and his pile of lies while Dean slept beside him. There were so many things for him to think about, so many things for him to worry about. The destruction of Earth, the slow but gradual seep of his grace; being separated from Heaven did not come lightly for the angel, and with no host to replenish and recharge him, he was like a large, idly sitting battery, energy slowly being stolen away little by little by the hands of time.  

For now there was still plenty, but that would not always be the case, and so like everything else he kept it from Dean.

"A breather?" Castiel had finally asked, as he rolled to press his head on Dean's shoulder, sliding one leg between both of his.

And he'd listened to what Dean wanted with every bit of his heart, somehow knowing that it was because the anniversary of Sam's death was swiftly approaching.

Had it only been a year since he'd lost his first lover?

The hunter wanted the same things he had given Sam so many months ago, just time to ... be free of everything. Though Dean's request was far more humble, it was the same, to travel about the country, take a break from hunting and to just... see the world around them.

Castiel readily agreed, thinking that it might convince his Winchester to give up hunting for good. The angel was beginning to develop a small complex about hunts and the representation of his failures. When he went on them with Dean, nothing at all had been able to stop him from growing more and more vicious in an effort to protect Dean. Sometimes it took him a long time to calm down.

But soon enough they were packed and in the car, - Castiel having finally moved to the front seat of the Impala - and were meandering slowly across the country. They'd already been in the car several hours, and while infinitely patient he was still rather cramped in the vehicle. He'd been looking out the window for hours now, listening to Dean's music.

"I could have taken us there easily," he offered, looking over his shoulder at Dean with a sigh, knowing his hunter had never gotten used to angel transport.

Dean glanced over at Castiel, brought out of his driving zen by the angel's words. "Cas, haven't you ever heard that it's not the destination, but the journey that's important?" Although he could see how this might get a little boring for Cas, Sam had often just gone to sleep as they went across country, as much so he could spell Dean later as for a lack of anything to do. So he reached forward and turned down the music, "So how about we talk? We're only an hour out from where we can stop and get lunch."

Adjusting in the seat a little to get more comfortable, he rested his left arm in against the window, fingers lightly holding onto the wheel, while he stretched out his right arm and put it behind the passenger seat headrest. For a moment he contemplated resting his hand on Cas' upper thigh, but he'd thought better of it. If he did, well then he'd need to pull the car over and see just how flexible Cas was, if he could find a way to comfortably get a lapful of angel onto his side of the car with him. Or there was always the backseat. Shaking his head slightly to clear his suddenly filled mind, he glanced at Cas again.

Castiel shook his head at the question and then furrowed his brows, for it didn't make much sense at all to him. All they were doing was sitting in the car, listening to old songs while they made their way to see things Castiel had seen before. Though he'd seen them, he'd never experienced them, and he was eager to do something new besides sit in silence and watch Dean play the air drums on the steering wheel. Talking sounded monumentally better than nothing, especially with that little clock ticking, always ticking in the back of his head, so he leaned against the door to face Dean with a smile.

Letting his eyes flicker along Dean's roughened hands, the angel licked his lips for a moment and gave a polite enough smile when his lover looked at him. He could tell what Dean was thinking, the look had become quite well-known to him, and he shifted just a little in his seat, returning a look that would indicate his willingness to take a small break.

But Dean turned the conversation to other topics and the angel felt like he'd been punched in the gut as Sam was abruptly brought back into the conversation. He managed to recover before it showed, giving a slow nod and then taking a deep breath.

"So, you probably guessed I wanted to take this break because of the date coming up... And you're right. I uh... I'd always promised him I'd take him to see the Grand Canyon and Disney Land, dumb stuff like that. But I... guess there was never time, so we never ended up going. Figured, you've never been there before, experienced that stuff, so why not? No time like the present."

"I am sure it will all be very enlightening. But not dumb. I think it will be enjoyable," Castiel murmured. Best to go on human-made rides while they still existed. Best to experience all he could in the time left to him. The cities and towns would be nothing more than relics soon enough, and Cas thought this might be as close to mortality as he could get, knowing there was a timer hanging over them.

Dean caught the look in Castiel's eye and he had to fight to keep his hands steady on the wheel. There was still something incredibly heady in the way Castiel would look at him sometimes, just this repressed sort of want that still shot electricity down his spine. Moving his right hand, he placed it down closer to Cas' knee, before slowly walking the fingers up along a sort of meandering path. It wasn't the easiest thing to do while focusing on the road, a conversation, and not killing them both, but he figured he was managing halfway well.

"Enlightening? We're not doing some pilgrimage, Cas. We're taking a vacation."

He realized that Cas had likely never taken a vacation before, probably no angel ever had. It was one of those self-indulgent human inventions that no other race of beings in creation would have had the balls to come up with. Animals couldn't afford the time, angels couldn't spare the thought, and demons... well demons whole lives once they flew out of Hell and possessed someone were more or less a never ending vacation, but they were also twisted human spirits, so it made sense in Dean's mind.

Blue eyes fell to the fingers that sauntered coyly up his thigh, and a grin touched the corners of his lips as he adjusted in his seat just a little, nudging his thighs just another inch apart as he took a deep breath and looked out the window. He tried not to shiver, for Dean's touch had grown more and more welcome to the angel over their time as lovers, so much so that he might be slightly addicted to it. It was certainly better than drinking ridiculous amounts of alcohol every other night. The feeling of calloused hands and rough stubble touching him everywhere was always disarming, and stole his breath.

"Perhaps I chose the wrong word," he said, sliding his heels across the floor slowly. "But I think it is correct in this context. Learning about and experiencing things I never have done before is very enlightening. The word is not restricted to religious use." Lifting one finger to his chin for a moment, he contemplated the validity of his own statement..

"Like how being with you has been enlightening. I have learned that it is okay to fall in love with  more than one person." Pausing again before continuing, he took a deep breath. "I learned that it is important to enjoy every moment you can, and never apologize for it."

Dean checked the rearview mirror and saw that they were alone on this rather deserted stretch of highway, and when Castiel started in on what he'd learned from his time with Dean, Dean made an executive decision, and started slowing down the car. "I still think that you should warn a guy before you go saying stuff like that," he replied, his voice quiet as he carefully pulled the Impala off the road far enough that no one would come check to see if they'd gotten a flat or engine troubles. Once he'd gotten the car in park, he twisted in his seat to look at Cas.

"So I'm enlightening, am I?" He reached forward and splayed both of his hands on Castiel's thigh, massaging it slightly. "But you can't forget to give yourself credit, because you opened my eyes to a whole hell of a lot. So how about we try experimenting a little in the back seat, hmm? See if we can't both learn something about the heat of two bodies in a confined area..." It wasn't his best foreplay lines, but he figured he was doing a good enough job weaving them somewhat into the conversation and not just pulling Cas against his lips right away.

Castiel blinked as he felt the car slow and then rumble as Dean tugged her off the road, looking back at his lover as he asked for a warning. Blinking again, and holding still so Dean could concentrate on pulling Baby over, -When had he started referring to Dean's car as Baby?- the angel's breath was halting as he was fixed in place by a pair of beautiful green eyes that he knew would haunt him for the rest of his existence.

He sucked in a breath as both of Dean's hands spread across his thigh, reaching out a hand to brace himself against the Dashboard, lips parting as his feet dragged across the floorboard again. Shifting gears back into playful,

"Mnnn. I think that subject could be, very... enjoyable." Laying a hand over Dean's, in an instant they were in the back seat of the impala, Dean laying on his back across the leather and Castiel straddling his hips already, leaning low over him.

"I predict it will be cramped, and we will have very little room to move." he purred softly, leaning down to the tip of his nose along Dean's cheek.

Dean's eyes widened slightly as he suddenly found himself in the backseat, Castiel on top of him. He sincerely doubted he'd ever get used to this angel mumbo jumbo teleportation crap, but he did have to admit that it had its uses. Purring deep in his throat, almost like Baby, he placed his hands on Cas' hip as he moved his legs into a slightly more comfortable position. This wasn't his first time having sex in the backseat of the Impala, so he knew it wouldn't be that bad, as it had a surprisingly roomy back seat; but it was his first time with Castiel back here, so as always, he was looking forward to seeing if that would make a difference.

"Well, being cramped shouldn't be a problem for you, eh Cas? Not with how flexible you are, you damn pretzel." He murmured back, thumbs pushing up the hem of Cas' shirt. "I'm thinking between the two of us, we'll find some position back here that isn't too terrible."

It didn't help much that he had an angel on his lap and the wonderful seat of his Baby at his back. This was pretty much what he'd fantasized about every time they'd been in the Impala together for the past two months, and he couldn't understand why he hadn't thought to do this before now.

Castiel's lips parted as Dean's hands slid to his hips, and he was glad that his lover didn't complain about his moving them for once. He lifted up on his knees as Dean adjusted before settling back down, shivering at the rough purr in Dean's throat. He knew Dean had taken lovers in the Impala before, and every day had made him wonder just a little more if Dean was willing to have him too. He'd thought about it, remember the few times he and Sam had snuck into the back of them Impala themselves when Dean was completely occupied.

The angel rolled his hips slowly and sensually down with a firm press as Dean's fingers pressed up the edge of his shirt, and he sucked in a hard breath at the sensations of his own, shrugging out of his trenchcoat quickly and bending low to grind harder against Dean, nipping at his earlobe and tugging.

"You like how flexible I am," he asserted, taking a handful of Dean's shirt and straightening back up, pulling the hunter with him as he nipped Dean's chin and then his upper lip with another demanding roll of his hips.

Dean groaned at the weight and the friction, his muscles tensing as he tried to pull Cas down on him even harder, his fingers pressing tight into those hips. Through clenched teeth, he growled out, "You damn well know I do." He was glad that Cas was slowly taking a more dominant role some days, glad to think that they could switch things up without consequence. And he certainly enjoyed the way Cas spoke when he was like that, all authority and loving condescension, reminding Dean that he was making love to an angel. There was simply too much to that thought, he couldn't keep it all in his head, and so he appreciated the reminders, the scintillating, salacious reminders.

The fallen's groan matched Dean for length and pitch, and the angel rocked again, forcefully arching his hips into those hands, his breath fluttering roughly out of his nose as he let out a chuckle that could be considered confident, which was odd for the angel. He enjoyed the praise and the reassurance, and it did him well. Hand tightening on Dean's collar when the hunter suggested the angel kissed him breathless, the fallen let out another chuckle before answering.

And then he was being bodily dragged upright, and that just sent another stab of liquid fire through his body. "But I like a whole lot more than just that, Cas," he replied before licking his tongue over Castiel's teeth that were playing with his lip. "Now how about you kiss me breathless, eh?" Releasing his death grip on Cas' hips, he started undoing the buttons of Cas’ shirt, making swift work of them, even though he knew he could tear the material off and Cas would just repair it with a little Grace when all was said and done, but it was the principles of the thing. So he slowly pushed the shirt over his shoulders and then down his arms, lightly trapping Cas' hands behind his own back, shirt bunched around his wrists.

"I can oblige."  And then he was covering Dean's mouth with his own the entire time, giving no quarter, his kisses driving and deep even as Dean slid his shirt off and pinned his hands. He liked this game, even though they both knew if Castiel wanted to escape Dean couldn't hold him.

Sucking in a gasping breath and tipping his head back to close his eyes, the angel paused for a moment and tipped his head, even as he gave Dean another pointed rock of the hips. "Do you hear that?" he murmured, though he was quite certain the mortal couldn't. He glanced down at the human with half-lidded eyes, flexing his still-trapped fingers, lips kiss swollen and pink.

"Hear what?" Dean asked, not really listening to the initial question. All he heard was the blood pounding through his ears and that nice voice in the back of his head that was screaming Castiel's name. The whole world for him had shrunk down to the back seat of the Impala and the body moving agaist his. Hell, there could have been a full marching band outside and he wouldn't have heard it, which was why he felt a twinge of annoyance that Cas was getting distracted by noises. Although he was an angel, so he could probably multitask better than Dean.

"Leave the sounds alone," he mumbled into Cas' mouth, lips still locked together so that the words were almost completely unintelligible. "You've got a hot and bothered body right here that is in need of your attention..."

He knew he was being a little demanding, but dammit, this was his favorite part of the day, and he wasn't having it be screwed up by some small noise. And maybe he was overreacting, but it seemed like every time Castiel noticed something, bad things happened and Dean ended up having to take a cold shower, like that time Castiel had heard a man beating his wife three rooms over and had flitted off in the middle of a particularly enjoyable make out session to be a knight in shining white armor, or trench coat, whatever.

Castiel heard his lover speaking into his mouth and it took a few moments for him to refocus, to concentrate and put sense to them. He wasn't sure what the noise he was hearing was, but it was high-pitched and plaintive, very distracting for an angel that wished desperately that he could make amends. It stopped for a moment, so he refocused his attention on Dean grinding against the man like a horny teenage human, fists tightening behind him, lips devouring his hunter's.

"Mnn... but," he broke away after a moment, furrowing his brows and looking up again as he heard the sound again, panting hard, eyes growing distant for a moment as he attempted to locate the sound and it's source.

He gave Dean another long, slow kiss before clearing his throat and pulling his unbuttoned shirt back up on his shoulders to regain use of his hands.

"I'll be... right back," he said with a nod, before he was gone.

The sinking feeling in the pit of Dean's stomach intensified as he noticed Castiel's attention straying again, pulling away from him to look off into the distance. And then he was just gone?

Wow, yeah, way to make him feel really great. He was now not interesting enough to hold the attention of his angel when he was practically begging for it? Having someone run out of him was not an experience that happened almost ever, and it was a huge blow to his pride, which only meant it was all redirected into into incredulous anger. However before he had the time to work up to a really good sullen silence, there was a tap at the window and he craned his head back to look up at Castiel.

It was nearly a minute before Castiel returned, but not to Dean's lap. Tapping the window the hunter was resting his head on, the angel waited for Dean to turn around before revealing the wiggling bundle of fur in his arms, his shirt stained with what appeared to be blood. Brown, shaggy, and fairly young, the puppy Castiel held whimpered, trying to bury it's nose in the angel's armpit.

Castiel knew his voice would be muffled, but he spoke anyway.

"This was making the noise," he said with a nod, holding it up. "His mother was killed, and he was injured, but I've healed him." He looked down at the dog and then up at Dean through the window.

OH. HELL. NO!

He was not just dumped for an injured dog! Not again. Ok, Sam hadn't been in the middle of sex with... wow. That really. Yeah. Dean swiftly stopped that train of thought, because there was no way he could say it now that it wouldn't sound horribly wrong in his mind. But still, a dog? Really?

However he rolled over and opened the back door, sliding back until he was sitting on his heels to allow Castiel space to get inside. "You left... for a dog?" His tone made it only too clear how he felt about this. Sam had left home, and what had he done? He'd gotten a dog. Then Dean was in Purgatory, what did Sam do? He got a dog. Needless to say, no love was lost between Dean and dogs.

Castiel slid inside the car with the squirming puppy, who was all shades of brown from mud and blood and fur and whimpering pitifully, shivering and cold. Castiel closed the door behind him and turned to face Dean, lifting his eyes to his lover's. He could already tell Dean was furious with him for leaving, but Castiel didn't know what about this poor pup had made him pause. He swallowed, looking contrite as the squirming creature wriggled around, revealing a thin white patch of fur on it's chest that reached from mid-neck to ribs.

"I... didn't want to leave him there," he finally said, knowing somehow that he was going to get a lesson in the course of nature. However something in him stood firm in face of the pup's pain. Something in him whispered that he'd ended so many lives already, that he should try to save at least a few. He wouldn't have to worry about the dog living to see the end... but he'd have felt terrible leaving the pitiful creature, who just needed some care, to die at the mercy of creatures that knew no pity.

"His mother was killed," he repeated, looking Dean over almost plaintively. "He was dying, Dean." He tried to explain as the shivering pup once more stuffed it's nose under his armpit and simply sat there, as if it believed hiding it's head would prevent it's body from being seen as well.

"Yeah, Cas, that's what living things do. They die." Dean quipped back, entirely incensed that a dog had ranked higher on the priority list than him. It also didn't help that he hated the smell of dogs, the fur they shed, what they did to cars, and a whole myriad of other traits about them. "Just..." He shook his head, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he firmly clenched it. Turning, he opened the door and got out of the car. "I need some air." He called back before he slammed the door, whispering a silent apology to Baby for taking out his frustration on her. That wasn't fair of him.

Putting his hands on his head, he let out a slow breath and started walking.

A part of his brain that wasn't fueled by his pride and his libido whispered that Cas had probably done the right thing, saving the little thing, but it was nearly drowned out by a voice that sounded a whole lot like his father lecturing him on the natural order of things and how animals just die and "Dean, you knew there was no way we could keep it once we moved on". There was no way that he wanted to have a dog in the Impala, ever.

As he slowly turned around and started walking back to the car, he came to a realization. He couldn't remember the last time Castiel had asked him for anything, not really. If... if Cas wanted to save the dog, maybe he should let him. Afterall, he couldn't be expecting to keep it, right? Just get it to a nice shelter or something where they could leave it off and it could get adopted by a nice, stable family that could give it real care and love and all the crap that dogs needed. However that didn't mean he was any less jilted for the way Castiel had gone about this, so he'd say that Cas could keep it until they found somewhere to leave it off, and then he'd sulk in silence. Damn, if Sam could see his skills at compromising now.

Castiel felt like he'd been slapped in the face at Dean's comeback, and he swallowed hard, gritting his teeth and looking down at the puppy. He had expected Dean to be irritated, but not so angry and it made part of him wish he'd just ignored the injured puppy's cries. It also made a small part of him angrier that Dean had expected him to simply ignore a fellow creature in so much pain for the sake of a little physical pleasure.

Torn between abandoning the puppy again because it was what Dean wanted, and chastising Dean for his disregard of other lives, Castiel petted the puppy gently, soothing it with his grace in a manner no mortal could ever hope too. Within a minute it had curled up at his side comfortably, with his head on the angel's lap, the whimpering ended. Castiel ran a hand through the air, and abruptly everything in the Impala was spotless, from him, to the mud caked and burr covered pup, to the dust on the dashboard. Once the pup had been cleaned, it turned out to be rather fluffy, about three or four months old, if Castiel had to guess.

Still, he rested his hand on it's head and just lowered his eyes to the car's floor, his gaze crestfallen.  He couldn't get rid of it yet, not until Dean specifically asked him too, which would probably be as soon as he got back to the car, and there was still that half of him that railed against how unfair the hunter was being. He looked like a child that had been blamed and punished for something it's sibling had done, upset with a bit of anger.

Dean dropped his hands, threading his thumbs through his belt loops as he came back into sight of the Impala. Time to buck up and do this. Opening the driver's side door he slid down into his seat and closed the door, simply sitting in silence for a moment. Then he twisted around, holding the back of his seat so he could look at Castiel. "Alright, you can keep it long enough for us to find a shelter to take it in, got it?"

Castiel lowered his head further, sinking down in his seat as Dean re-entered and sat silently in front of him, not even looking up as the hunter gave him the ultimatum he was expecting. He hadn't wanted to keep the pup in the first place, only save it, but the way Dean was treating him, as if he had inconvenienced the man by spilling the entire bag of salt he might need on a hunt, chafed.

He almost said nothing, almost said too much, but he finally simply settled on a very quiet, "Fine, Dean." His hand stilled on the pup's back, withdrawing his grace gently. The puppy whined softly and licked at Castiel's trenchcoat before startling at the car's ignition, and Castiel sighed as he calmed it gently again.

That very quiet voice told him that this was ridiculous of him, giving an order to this angel who had lived to see the birth of the human race, all because he'd been denied sex. Dean told that little voice to cram it with walnuts.

Then he turned back towards the road and turned the key, the Impala roaring to life. He didn't want to talk about this, didn't want to talk to Castiel right now. And yes it was stupid and he knew he was being childish, but dammit, he had earned that right. Years of looking after everyone else should have been enough to earn a little sullen anger every once in awhile.

The voice said he was being an idiot and making a mountain out of a molehill. Dean put in his Metallica cassette and drummed on the steering wheel to tune out the voice of reason in his head.

When Dean put Metallica in, Castiel took a deep breath and tried to will his own hurt away, reminding himself that he didn't matter, that Dean came first. Even if he hated Castiel, Dean must always come first. Blue eyes dropped to the brown creature in his lap, and he wondered briefly if he should simply kill it now, if it would be kinder to... The thought frightened him, and he shied away from it, but not before a the idea left its mark in his haunted eyes.

They drove long past the town Dean had meant to stop at, long into the night, with fog rolling in and the headlights vainly attempting to cut through the soup. Finally Dean found a turn off and pulled into a town, the fog bank so thick that he could barely see halfway down a block. He drove at a snail's pace through the town, still too annoyed to notice how beautiful the light was through the fog, or how otherworldly the night felt. All he wanted was to find a sign for a motel so he could turn in for the night. Then in the morning he could deal with this dog issue. As it was, he almost missed the only motel in the tiny town, and Dean found himself wishing he had a foghorn and a lighthouse.

As soon as he found a parking spot and turned Baby off, he was up and out of the car, making his way through the surprisingly cold moisture laden air to the little office. There was an old man sitting behind the desk, dozing due to the late hour. Checking his watch, he saw that it was already 1:30, and he felt a little guilty as he started coughing to wake the man up and get his attention.

"Huh? Oh... room I'm assuming?" The old man said in disjointed, sleep addled English.

Dean just nodded.

"Well, sign here and I'll get you a key." Passing over the nearly empty register, he stood up slowly and walked towards the wall of keys.

"What are you doing here all by yourself?" Dean asked, finding it rather saddening that the poor old man was behind the counter instead of tucked away in bed.

"Oh, daughter is usually here to cover the nights, but her baby decided it was coming tonight. So it goes."

Dean nodded again and took the key from the old man and paid him. Bidding the man good night, he walked out to the car, a strange loneliness trailing him. It was a stupid thing to be affected by, just an old man watching over his hotel, but it did; because it made him wonder what his life would be like, 30, 40 ,50 years down the road. Would he still be driving the Impala, pulling long nights to get to the next hunt? Would he look over at the passenger side and see an empty seat?

Alright, alright, he'd been a dick.

Opening the back door up, he put a hand on Castiel's shoulder, the apology never quite making it past his lips, but evident in his gaze. He'd apologize in the morning. "Come on, got us a room."

Castiel barely noticed when they stopped, and simply sat in the now quiet car until Dean returned. The hand on his shoulder drew his gaze up, but he didn't immediately move, but when he did he picked the puppy up and set it down on the ground, where it whined groggily and swayed on its feet. Standing up behind it, he nudged it with his foot.

"Go on," he said gently, nudging it further until it started moving on its own, walking into the thick fog. Castiel watched it go and made no move to follow, simply flexing his hands and closing the Impala door gently. "I think... I might just go do some research," he finally said, haltingly, knowing that cases always put Dean in a better mood.

Dean sighed and shook his head. "Cas, go pick that dog up and get into the hotel room, ok? You..." He was never good at this part, normally Sammy was the one who dealt with feeling and all that crap. "You want to save it, right? Well don't go abandoning it halfway through." And it wasn't the right thing to say, it wasn't kind and it wasn't eloquent, but it was what he could do. "You were probably right to save it. I just... dad taught us to not get attached to animals, because they're a hassle to bring on the road, and he didn't want another mouth to have to feed. So... go on. Go get the little guy."

He was probably going to regret this somehow, but he already regretted the expression on Castiel's face, so it was worth it.

Reaching out, he placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder, squeezing gently. Castiel knew that they were ok, right? He was just a little angry and jilted, so the angel didn't need to look so forlorn. "Come on, Cas..." But he didn't know what he was asking for.

The angel stepped back away from Dean's hand almost subconsciously, and pursed his lips slightly before running his tongue over the upper and swallowing.

"No, you were right," he said softly. "It's the natural order of things. I... Just... I suppose I still have the urge to atone." He would always have that urge, always desire to seek penance, always want correct his mistakes. "It's highly likely that a shelter would simply kill him either way. I've seen a television program that says feral animals do not usually fare well in shelters, and I only calmed him with grace. Perhaps he is old enough to know how to scavenge," he shrugged slowly, closing his eyes.

Turning, the angel stuffed his hands in his pockets and began walking toward the hotel, his steps slow and calm as he pushed everything back and became what he thought Dean wanted him to be. "Would you like to continue what we were doing earlier?"

Dammit Cas.

Dean felt like there was just no winning this. "Cas, if you want to save a dog and that feels like atonement, then save the damn dog." He didn't want to get angry again, but he really couldn't take how passive Castiel got, like his only reason for living was doing what Dean wanted. People weren't supposed to live like that. But Castiel wasn't a person, was he? Well that didn't matter, because he was not going to let Castiel take the easy way out and hide behind this stupid excuse of pleasing him, because oh, he could see what was going on. Or he thought he could.

"And no I... Cas, sometimes it doesn't matter what I want." He got up in the angel's space, pressing a finger into his chest. Anger, that he could work with. "It matters what you want too, dammit. So do you want to save the dog? Then save it. Believe it or not, I don't want to be God to you. I want someone who's at my side, not behind me and certainly not waiting on my every need. You're just as important as I am Cas, so why the hell can't you see that? Just because I get angry doesn't mean I don't still love you, just like the sun doesn't cease to exist when it goes behind a cloud."

Castiel stopped as he heard the growl in Dean's voice and looked up at the sky, feeling as if he was going to simply combust right there. The lies, all of them just felt too heavy, and each word of Dean's hit him harder than he cared to admit. How could he tell Dean that that it was always about what Dean wanted, and would be until Dean took his last breath. How could he tell this mortal, that despite his not wanting to be put in such a position, he literally might as well be God; that the entire human race breathed and died with him. His blood was the lifeblood of the entirety of humanity.

Looking at the finger, on his chest, he took a step back and looked up at Dean quietly.

"Dean," he started and sighed. "If what I want matters, then I am going to keep the dog," he said softly, giving a nod. "I will take care of it and make certain it doesn't bother you." In a second he was gone and back again, once more holding the squirming, confused puppy in his arms. "I am not going to drop it off at a shelter," he murmured, with a ring of finality to his tone.

Dean took a deep breath when Castiel disappeared, almost worried that he'd finally pushed too far, that Cas hadn't understood what he meant. But then Cas was back and he held his breath. "Yeah, see, that's more like it." He didn't like dogs, didn't want one, but if it was what Castiel wanted, then he'd learn to want it too. Wasn't that what love was all about?

"Come on, Cas, let's get out of this freakin' fog." So he slipped his arm around Castiel's shoulders and guided him to their room, opening the door to another one star motel room in the middle of nowhere. The place wasn't fancy and the duvet looked like it had seen better days, but in that moment, it was a haven from the storm, and Dean couldn't have been more thankful for it.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he said, more out of habit than any real reason. So he took off his jacket as he walked towards the bathroom, tossing it on the bed as he passed. A little time under a warm spray sounded like just what the doctor had ordered, and it would give him time to cool his temper, again.

Leaning low, Castiel slowly put the puppy on the floor and looked up at Dean, giving his lover a nod as he made a few plans of his own. Before Dean could disappear, Castiel reached out and snatched his hand gently, tugging him close to kiss him gently on the corner of the mouth.

"Thank you," he murmured softly, before taking his leave.

It wasn't five minutes later that the angel showed back up with arms full of supplies, a bottle of whiskey for Dean, a few cans of dog food for the dog, two bowls and even a few toys and a bed. He got to work setting things up in the far corner, communicating a bit primitively with his grace what each thing was for. The puppy seemed to understand easily enough and curled up on the small bed, nose firmly planted in the food bowl as Castiel removed his clothes and slid beneath the comforter, turning the TV on to a static-filled cartoon channel to watch while he waited for Dean.


	17. Coming Down in Two Part Harmony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is slowly healing old wounds when Castiel notices that he is not as alone with Dean as he first thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay, but I didn't have internet connection yesterday to upload this.

True to his word, Castiel kept the dog and raised it well. It probably helped that he was an angel and could use his Grace to make the little guy understand exactly what he wanted, but Dean didn't want to steal all of Cas' achievement in how well-mannered the dog had become. Two years passed, and the dog had grown considerably from the pup he once was. Dean still wasn't a hundred percent sure why Castiel named the dog, Moose, but if he had to hazard a guess he'd say it was because of Sam, and the fact that Moose's long fur was nearly the same color, with that same little half curl flip to the ends that Sam used to have before he'd grown a full mane.

Surprisingly Moose had turned out to be a good thing, as he was far more sensitive to the supernatural than Dean ever could be, and had taken to following the hunter around religiously during hunts, once jumping up and biting into the jugular of a vampire that would have gotten the drop on Dean. So he might have grown on Dean a little after that, and he might have taken to sleeping at the foot of their bed whenever the nights got cold, and he might have had the saddest eyes that Dean had seen in a long time. So maybe, just maybe, Dean had grown to love the ball of fur.

And it wasn't just the hunts that he ended up helping with. Moose provided endless excuses for Dean and Cas to get some air when they needed space, and he'd grab Dean's jacket and pull him over to Castiel when he sensed that the angel was dealing with another bout of self loathing. Oh, there were the problems too, like when he'd chewed on Dean's favorite pistol and thrown off the iron sights, or when he'd peed in the back of the Impala; but every time Dean was about to get mad, Cas would step in front of him and simply fix things. Needless to say there were more than a few nights where Moose was set outside for the night while Cas tried to calm Dean back down.

Those two years were well spent, helping people, hunting things. Dean really wouldn't have it any other way.

So when he pulled into the rest stop, legs aching from being in the same cramped position for hours, it wasn't surprising when he whistled for Moose and got out of the Impala, Moose only a few moments behind him. Grabbing a much abused tennis ball from the back seat, he ducked down to look at Cas. "I'm gonna take Moose out, get a little exercise so he won't be pacing in the car all night. You coming?"

Castiel smiled at Dean, a real smile that had become more and more prevalent as time crawled by. His lover, his friend, had eased some of his pain, and though guilt still plagued him, it was growing easier to just forget about things and bask in Dean's smile. Their dog had been a huge help, growing from something deceptively small into something rather large, a powerful, loyal creature that recognized only the two of them as friends. Dean's guess at the name was correct, along with the fact that the Seraph simply found the word 'moose' amusing. When Castiel felt alone, the nights he remembered what was going to happen, Moose comforted him, reminded him there was some good he had done. The dog was nothing if not happy, and was happiest when he was was hunting with Dean, just as Sam once had.

It made him glad to know that Dean did not hate him for his choice in keeping the creature, and that the dog had even saved Dean's life once, sealing his place in their odd little family. That's what it certainly was.

It was more than Castiel could have ever hoped for, and he was grateful, just so grateful to have this time and each new memory. Castiel took no moment for granted. If any had told Castiel three years ago that there was happiness to be found again, the angel would have almost laughed, but here he was. Here they were, and it was good. He had slowly fallen in love with the hunter, almost as deeply as he had with Sam, despite himself, and though he ached on occasion, Dean was his splint, and kept him strong.

"Yes, in a bit. I'm going to go get him some food." The angel said softly as he climbed out of the car and pet the tail-wagging dog's head. He received a lick in return, though the dog quickly turned his attention back to the ball in Dean's hand. The angel smiled again and took Dean by the collar of his jacket, giving him a firm kiss before fluttering away.

It was easy enough to grab a can of the dog's favorite food and a few of his favorite treats, and Castiel was soon back at the park, though for now, he remained invisible, seating himself on the roof of the impala and just watching his two, drinking in what he considered one of the most beautiful sights in all of his time.

Dean threw the tennis ball harder each time, a slow smile spreading across his face as Moose would streak out to chase after the ball, farther and farther each time. There was something cathartic in this, a silent life that followed him, a presence that asked for nothing but love and gave all the more in return. In moments like this, he wished he could believe in frilly things like reincarnation or people in Heaven having a hand in fate, but he knew better. So instead he thanked his personal angel and reveled in the simple pleasure of being alive.

Meanwhile, Castiel was not the only invisible observer of the couple, as Sam sat on a limb of a great old oak, high above everyone's heads. He did this occasionally, although Lucifer asked if it wasn't a bit like self-induced torture, to come out and watch his brother living on without him, to watch the angel who had loved him slowly moving on. But Sam would shake his head and say that he had everything he needed, he just wanted to make sure that Dean did too. Most of the times when he did this he would hide his presence from even Castiel, not wanting to force the poor man to have to see him, to not have him know that occasionally he missed the seraph so much it was a physical pain. Lucifer understood, knew that even with how they completed each other, their love was different, unique, perfect for each other; but he wasn't Sam's family, the only two people left who mattered to Sam.

So Lucifer would hold back his jealousy as well as he could, wrap his Grace around Sam tight, and hold him as they watched the passing of the world that Sam had sacrificed to save their lives. Some days he hated those two, hated what their deaths would mean for Sam, to Sam, hated that he needed them at all, hated that he had been trapped for so many years, missed so much of Sam's life. Some days he was sane and others he wasn't, some days he would hold Sam so deep within his Grace that the man didn't know which way was up, was drowning in the overpowering mass of what the archangel was. Some days he sat with Sam, watching those men, and all he wanted was to tell him that he'd be better off without them, that they didn't need them. Other days he remembered Michael and Gabriel, and on those days he didn't say a thing, just held Sam tight and watched through borrowed eyes.

Castiel thought he might be able to sit forever and just watch this, the rare smile sliding across Dean's face slowly, Moose bounding back and forth as if there were nothing but the ball and Dean in his world. It was quite like that, their dog forever reminding Castiel to take pleasure in each moment as it came, to enjoy each second as if you didn't know what was coming. It was almost like being in Heaven again, a place where he felt safe and like he belonged. This was his home now, for better or for worse, and each day it grew a little better if he forgot the the worse.

But several minutes passed, and soon Castiel's brows were furrowed, even with his grace fading he could tell that something was amiss. The energies of an old tree close to them was warped by something, and after a moment he peered upwards into the branches, his eyes searching for something that was masked, even to him. He knew who it was almost instantly, and his heart seized in his chest momentarily, though he could not see or directly feel the pair. He knew that they watched, and he wondered what they were thinking. The pain that blossomed in him was no longer as sharp as it once had been, but it was there nonetheless, and his azure gaze turned longing, lingering in the area of the tree they had decided to shroud themselves in.

His fingers curled on the roof of the Impala before he pushed himself off, using his abilities to push himself up to those branches. He sat on one of the sturdier branches slowly, not able to pinpoint exactly where they were and ran his fingertips over the bark for a moment before opening his mouth to speak.

"Do you do this often?"

Sam had felt as Castiel noticed the slight disturbance he was causing, cursing himself for momentarily letting that shielding drop. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to them, to Castiel, but he felt in some ways that he had lost that right. They were happy now, and what right did he have to ruin that by reminding them of all that they had lost? But he waited a moment too long, indecision causing enough time for Castiel to realize what was going on, who as up there, and then all at once the younger angel was in the boughs below him. Well, it wouldn't do to run away now, would likely only serve to cause Castiel more pain than seeing him would; so he dropped the distortion and allowed himself to become visible to Castiel's gaze.

"No, not terribly." _Far more often than we should._ "I just thought I would drop in and see how you were both holding up, seeing as the anniversary is coming up again soon." It was painful looking into those eyes, seeing the emotions that had waned slightly, but still burned far brighter than a human's ever would, painful because Sam didn't deserve that, not after what he'd done. So he looked away, down at Dean and Moose, watching the simple pleasures of a pleasant afternoon. "It looks like he's doing better. Your decision to save the dog... was a good one." He would have wanted to save the little pup too, although he didn't think it would have gone down the same if he had of tried. Dean would have gotten angry, for different reasons, but he still would have been angry. Maybe Cas would have backed him up but... No, he couldn't do this to himself. Couldn't imagine what life would have been like, should things have happened differently.

So he turned his gaze back to Castiel, and he felt Lucifer clutch tightly at his soul. Today the archangel was just as lonely as Sam was, and their pain combined was a frightening thing. He had to fight not to become lost in it, in his own pain of things not said and things not done, and Lucifer's ageless pain of isolation and damnation. "You've done an amazing thing, Cas, bringing his smile back." And he meant it, because he sure hadn't been able to do it, the lies and betrayals running too deep on both sides.

The hostless Seraph wasn't sure if he should believe Sam or not, but he took a moment to steel himself before looking up. They were a little higher than he'd thought, but he had no trouble hearing them. He was almost certain it was Sam he was speaking to, and his heart ached again to have his chosen partner so close, and yet so out of his reach. Sam looked past him, and the younger angel glanced down again. It had been almost three years since Sam's 'death' and while Dean had gotten a little better about it every year, Castiel knew there would always, always be a sadness in those green eyes that would never fully go away. Not on that date.

"I didn't save the dog." he said slowly. "I tried to let him go and Dean... Dean told me to go get him." And then Castiel was standing on the branch in front of Sam, looking down at them, his hands tucked in his pockets, his balance impeccable. Searching his bonded's face quietly, Castiel gave a weak smile and looked back down at Dean.

"He only said that because you saved it in the first place... it's not really something he would have come up with on his own. You bring out the best in him, Cas." Sam said, features carefully marshalled, and his voice was soft.

"I just want them to be good." he said softly, knowing that Sam knew what he spoke of. "I'd give up my grace to make it so." It was the truth, he'd tear it from his own bones in a heartbeat just to keep Dean's smile there. It was happening anyway, each time he used his powers sapped a little more from his reserves.. But with luck, he should still have plenty by the time it ended.

Turning his gaze back to Sam, the angel sighed softly. When he next spoke, his voice was as quiet as rustling leaves. "I miss you."

As soon as Castiel moved to another branch, perhaps even before, Sam's eyes had already found him again. "I know you would, you've always been too giving." He replied, voice tinged with that old familiar smile, sharing a quiet moment with Castiel. Then Castiel breathed out the words he'd been so afraid to hear, and all he wanted to do was wrap his friend, his would-be lover, in his arms and take away all the pain that resided in that caring heart; but that wasn't his place any more. So he scooted over and left room for Castiel to join him on his own branch, should he want.

 _We've missed you too._ Lucifer whispered to Sam, knowing that it needed to be said, but not sure if it should be said out loud. It had surprised Sam when he first realized that Lucifer was lonely for the Host, for another angel, but now he saw that both of them could love Castiel, perhaps they already did. "I know." The words burned in his throat as he tried to say the right thing, not step over the boundaries that needed to be maintained. It wasn't fair of him to want Castiel now. He shouldn't deserve a second chance, or whatever number of second chance that would be by this point. Lucifer wrapped around his heart like a serpent and filled it with his pain and loneliness, but also with his love and adoration, it felt like Heaven and burned like Hell.

But it caused him to speak his mind, his heart.

"I've... I've missed you too." And he spoke the words as a broken hallelujah, haunting and melodious

Castiel smiled genuinely. Though there were still some pieces of him missing, Dean had managed to find many he thought lost forever, and had used them to glue Castiel into a recognizable semblance of himself. He was healing, slowly. Just because someone was missing something they once considered essential, it didn't mean they could never find joy in life again.  The smile on Sam's face was almost too much to bear, and Castiel was drawn to sit beside him, a lost moth to a hot flame, both fatal and irresistible. He sat close enough that he could feel the chill coming from Sam, fingers a mere inch from touching.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat as he examined his once-lover's face closely. Of course, Sam hadn't aged a day since saying yes, as youthful as ever, but the eyes gave everything away. The old soul they belonged to was the same one he had fallen for. Nostalgia hit him hard and he couldn't help but cover one of those large hands with his own, when Sam confessed to missing him too. He squeezed gently, watching his own thumb run over the knuckles slowly before lifting his gaze back to the younger Winchester.

He knew he shouldn't touch, that it was probably off-limits, or not allowed, but he couldn't resist it. The angel had never learned about monogamy or exclusivity. He had never had to, he got what he could from Dean and disregarded any other of his own needs, knowing that they were not important. He didn't know that humans tended to settle down with one person. He did know that Dean had left behind a string of lovers, and figured it normal, but Castiel had never needed more than one, and Dean had obviously felt the same after they'd begun sleeping together. He wouldn't have minded if Dean had slept with others, as long as the Winchester never abandoned him.

And so when he lifted a hand to cup Sam's cheek, leaning forward to kiss him, the thought that he might be doing something wrong by human standards never crossed his mind. Dean would never know, and Castiel was so used to lying by this time, it was almost useless to feel more remorse.

Sam could tell what Castiel was going to do, but he made no move to stop him, made no move away. For as innocent and oblivious as Castiel was of monogamy, Sam was the opposite, sitting there with guilt flooding him. But as he saw that Castiel still wanted him after everything he'd done, he couldn't force himself to do the right thing. So Lucifer spread out, gave him a push, raised his hand to hold a hip and the other to wrap around the back of Castiel's neck. They kept the kiss gentle, both of them knowing that there was always a possibility that Castiel would push them away, wouldn't want this now that Sam was _more_ , now that Lucifer was here as well, now that he had Dean.

But after the chaste kiss, more a prayer than physical touch, he looked into those eyes and drowned, seeing nothing condemning him, never him. "Cas..." He moved his hand from Castiel's neck and ran his thumb over a cheek, softly caressing Castiel. His angel. Not his angel anymore though. Always his angel. He didn't deserve this, and it wasn't right and...

 _Shhhhh, let him decide if it's a mistake or not, Sam._ Lucifer's Grace ached to reach out toward Castiel's, but they were both afraid that would be the straw that broke the camel's back, that having that connection again would overwhelm Castiel, would remind them all of things best left forgotten.

Afternoons in ancient forests, evenings under the stars, the highest hotels, and lowest hovels. An unchained melody that he hadn't realized he couldn't remember the words to. A smile that was only, ever, for him.

Castiel's heart and body had belonged to Sam first, and would always belong to Sam first, and the touch reminded him of everything, all their time together, how they had loved and laughed and played and trained. Some part of Castiel rose from the dead as he thought, maybe, just maybe, Sam had realized that he did love Castiel. Without Lucifer's grace binding them, and Castiel's own tucked as tightly as his wings, their thoughts were hidden from one another, and Castiel realized he wanted it that way. Ambiguity in this case was better than clarity, when he was certain it would only end in more pain. There had been no sign of Lucifer other than the power Sam had wielded earlier, and for that the Seraph was grateful. It meant he could lose himself in a fantasy he had daydreamed of over and over, even after he'd realized his love for Dean.

His pupils were already widened by the time they separated; the kiss may have been chaste, but Sam was imprinted on the angel's very being. He couldn't have said no if he wanted to, with the illusion that it was just the two of them again, so deeply was Sam woven into him that first fateful night so long ago.

He had wanted to hate Sam, had tried a few times to rouse anger at what the man had done to save him, but it had never stuck, and always fizzled out quickly. He had tried to remind himself that Sam had doomed the world. He'd tried to remind himself that Sam had hurt him purposely on several occasions to drink his blood, but it all seemed trivial now. It all seemed silly. What was done, was done. There was nothing he could do to change it.

The angel couldn't stop himself, grabbing the back of Sam's neck and roughly mashing his lips to the younger Winchester's with a soft gasp, all but clutching. He wanted Sam again. His Sam. Just for a night. Just for a while. Dear god, he missed it so much.

As he saw Castiel's reaction, Sam couldn't wonder if he wasn't the only one who had suffered from addiction. They weren't good for each other, both too giving, too loving, too wild and terrible and powerful and free. They were binary suns, circling each other in elongated, decaying orbits, until the fateful day that they would inevitably crash into each other and burn out and blow up. He shouldn't do this, shouldn't take from Dean, shouldn't feel heartened to know that Castiel wanted him like this.

_Of course you should._

As Castiel pulled him back in, their kisses becoming cruel from the pain, crushing from the longing, captive from their love. There was no escaping this, and Sam felt a thrill from the angel inside him, Grace so carefully restrained.

_Don't you want him to know that once Dean dies, you'll be there for him at the beginning of eternity?_

The thought chilled Sam to the bone, and he pulled Castiel closer, holding onto him to keep him afloat. Alone, neither of them wanted to be alone at the end. But what would Dean's death do to Castiel? Fingers dug into hips that Sam knew better than the sky, more intimately than the air in his lungs, and he snapped the fingers of his other hand, undoing buttons all at once. Pushing back material, he drew in a sharp breath from Castiel's mouth, seeing his mark still bright against pale skin.

_He will always be yours, Sam, ours. You were the one who broke his heart, but he's as drawn to you as I am, well, almost._

Breaking the kiss, staring in wonderment, he whispered, gasping. "You... kept it? All this time?" Wouldn't Dean have found it an affront? Did Dean know what it meant, beyond the obvious answer of what it was?

The whisper of the wind through the grand old tree tried to tell Castiel that this was wrong, but the angel had already made up his mind. He'd been too long without Sam already. He knew that Lucifer was there, knew that no matter how much he wished it, Lucifer would always be there, and it killed him, but he couldn't let go. Sam had marked him first, filling an empty broken space inside of him with love and wonder and cherished memories instead of pain and fear and uncertainty.

He would have certainly turned out differently without encouragement and love. Sam had given him that first, claimed Castiel's broken heart for his own, and tried his best to make it better. If he were to be honest, the Seraph had loved Dean before he'd loved Sam in the beginning, before everything, but he'd fallen  _in_ love with Sam first, and for that, the angel would suffer every moment they were apart. He would love Sam eternally, as long as he existed, and nothing would be able to fill the place Sam had left barren when he'd gone.

His lips hurt from the force of their kisses turning bruising, but he couldn't get enough of the taste he would never forget, but almost couldn't remember. Slim fingers tightened at the back of Sam's neck and he whimpered as the buttons on his shirt all parted at once, another hint that Lucifer still lurked there, just beneath the surface. The Seraph tipped his head back with a soft groan, taking a deep breath of the cool night air as he pressed his hips roughly into the hands that held them, shifting gently, almost effortlessly, to straddle Sam's waist.

He'd almost let himself forget the mark he'd kept. Dean hadn't ever mentioned it, and he hadn't seen it in a while, but it was still there, as bright and livid as the day it'd been created. Castiel knew what Sam spoke of. Brows furrowing slightly in confusion, Castiel was even innocent of his own biology when it came to finding a true mate. His fingers lifted, sliding through the long but soft brown locks quietly as his other hand raised, touching the mark very gently as he tried to get control of his breathing.

He looked down, trying hard to think of what to say. "Yes," he finally said softly. "It is the first thing you gave me. It was more than just a mark to me, Sam..." he breathed, shrinking in on himself just a little. "It was the will to live." He couldn't quite say that now, but nostalgia was a hard thing to discard, and it still meant more to Castiel than even he knew. It was the last remaining proof that he had that Sam had loved him once.

Sam looked at it and sighed. He was certain that Castiel hadn't known that he would love Sam this way, and his heart broke for him. Without meaning to, like everything else in his life, he'd broken another thing he'd touched. Bending forward, he peppered the mark with light kisses, chaste and virginal, all the while whispering, "I am sorry Cas, I am so sorry. I... I didn't realize..." But if he had of, would he have chosen any differently? Would he have not loved the angel, kept it all platonic? No, he'd hurt Castiel in ways that could never be forgiven, but he was just messed up enough, selfish enough, that he would make the same choices again, damning Castiel to a life of loving him like a man in the desert loves water, like the depths of space loves the stars.

"I'm sorry Cas, that I've pulled you down with me, damned you like this... and I'm sorry that in the end, I'm glad; blown away by the gift you're still willing to give me," he whispered, his hands like prayers against his skin, adoring every inch of Castiel that they could touch. He found the mark again and began to suck, the taste of Castiel exactly as he remembered. It was everything he'd denied himself, and a part of his mind laughed that he'd lasted only three years, only allowed Dean that much happiness before he caved and was selfish again.

Finally they sensed that Castiel wasn't trying to deny that Lucifer was there anymore, so Lucifer smiled and set Sam's brain stem on fire, chemicals washing through him, over him, drowning him in his need. And the archangel reached out, so tentatively that it hurt Sam to feel the care with which he moved, to brush again Cas' Grace, not asking for connection, only wishing to touch as much as Sam did.

There were a million things he wanted to say, a thousand ways he'd imagined this conversation might have happened, but all he could get out was that he was sorry. He honestly was, he hadn't realized what he was losing, hadn't known that he didn't need to let go of Cas to keep him safe. But there was still Dean. Dean. With the softest, wet pop, he let go of Castiel's skin, licking his saliva off, wanting to devour Cas whole and keep him safe and loved inside him.

 _I'm a terrible influence on you,_ Lucifer purred, humming happily.

And Sam knew he was right, he was. How long had he tried to deny all of this to himself, and how often did Lucifer tell him to be honest, tell him that they could find a way for everyone to be happy, to be whole. But Sam hadn't believed that Lucifer would actually want to share him, that he wouldn't flare up with jealousy or anger or fury and hurt Castiel even worse than Sam already had.

 _Why would I? He's the only one in all the Host that might have understood my reasons..._ And they both know that, both felt the heavy weight of what acceptance and acknowledgement could bring.

Castiel shuddered as his true-mate's lips touched the mark, settling over them as if they'd never been parted, as if they hadn't ever stopped loving one another. His fingers tightend with a mixture of need and sorrow, and he listened to Sam's apologies but he could not bring himself to say anything. He hated the sorrow in Sam's voice and he wished desperately that he could make it simply disappear. His muscles strained under Sam's touch, heated and warm against Sam's cooler hands, the cold both titillating and intimidating as he stroked at what skin he could find comfortingly.

A gasp escaped him as Sam's mouth wrapped over the same curve it had the first time, and the mark burst into something even bigger, the entire tiny area he had forced to stop healing turning red and bright in a pefect circle, edges becoming more cleanly defined as what lay outside the small area faded back to something more pristine. Castiel arched his back, lips splitting as he exhaled audibly, ankles curling inward as they dangled off either side of the branch Sam sat on. They were both sorry, and would continue to be sorry, and no amount apologizing or reassurance would really help either of them feel better.

The angel buried his face in the crook of Sam's neck when he was released, shivering as he pressed himself against Sam, certain that Sam's arms around him were the only thing that were keeping him anchored to sanity in the moment when he felt his Fallen brother touch him. To an angel with fading grace, the power held in a single caress from God's right hand, God's most beautiful, was almost overwhelming. He felt no mal-intent at all, and so, like a young puppy who didn't yet know that the hand that petted him was good, he almost shied away, but was held in place by his desire not to leave Sam.

Something dawned on him them, insidious and harsh and visceral but so true that it hurt. For all his begging, for all his pleading, for all that he had done, never once had their father acknowledged a single one of his prayers or wishes or concerns. Never once had he recieved a helping hand except to be brought back to life again with no direction or path laid before him. But Lucifer had, even after Castiel had stood against him, multiple times. Even after Castiel had done everything he could to lock Lucifer back in the cage. Even after Castiel had torn apart a flock of angels that might well have become Lucifer's legion, Lucifer had shown him mercy and kindness. He'd taken pity on one lost little angel as no one else had. He'd agreed to give Dean the rest of his life, though Dean had also wronged him. He allowed Sam to speak freely with the angel, and shared his vessel so it could be so...

Against everything he was, against everything he had struggled against, Castiel let himself forget the humans for once, and tentatively allowed Lucifer to brush against his fading grace. It was so alien to feel the power angels had once been created with, a grace that was self-sustaining even after being cast from Heaven. It was a magnificent thing to feel, if a bit overwhelming. His lips parted slightly, his eyes dazed as he turned them back to Sam, not exactly sure what he was doing, what he was allowing to happen, where he stood. In a flash he had cupped Sam's cheeks again and covered his lover's mouth with his own, his kiss hungry and full of parched need as he gasped Sam's name at the corner of his lips.

Waiting with baited breath, Sam and Lucifer looked for any signs of rejection from Castiel, but there were none; and as Castiel came back to them, mouth hungry against theirs, they both allowed themselves the smallest amount of hope. Lucifer immediately circled his Grace around vessel and angel, cocooning them in safety and love and _mine_ , his great wings cutting them off from anything and everything else, feather light touches of Grace brushing against both of them.

Sam was suddenly pulling Cas close to him, helping him wrap legs around his waist, hands slipping up under Castiel's shirt, fingers pushing at skin to see if this was real. This couldn't be real, had to be a dream. Because good things didn't happen so Sam.

_I did._

Redemption didn't happen for Sam.

_It already has._

Love always died in Sam's hands.

_We won't leave you, Sam._

And there was simply no way that he deserved this, a second chance, Castiel, happiness, any of it.

"Don't leave me again, Sam." Castiel heard himself begging. "Don't leave me. I need you. Please," he begged. And he wasn't begging for Sam to stay everyday like before. He wasn't begging for Sam to hold him and touch him and join their family again. They both knew that was impossible. He was simply begging for Sam not to cut himself off again, not to hide his presence from the angel. He wasn't offering to join Lucifer's host, and he wasn't offering to love them both completely and without question, but the angel needed his mate more than he knew and even a conversation or two a year would be enough to sustain him.

Lucifer was still an afterthought to the young Fallen, his grace a thing of wonder and awe, but Castiel was not in love with Lucifer, he was in love with a mortal, a human that he had given himself willingly to. It was only a bonus to be touched with another's grace at this point, something he didn't ask for, but something he wouldn't push away. It was worth knowing that at least one other understood him and everything that he was.

Sam's hand raised to cup both sides of Castiel's face, holding the man in the palm of his hands, feeling that familiar stubble and knowing that Castiel had given his all to him, knowing that he would do so again in a heartbeat. "I wouldn't dream of it, Cas. I... I thought you were happy, with Dean." He started, feeling the need to explain, to let Castiel know that he'd never meant to leave him alone, never meant to abandon him. "I was just so afraid that if you saw me, it would hurt you again, remind you of how I'd failed you. And I did, Cas, I failed you. It was never anything you did."

Thumbs stroked at Castiel's cheekbones, hating that he'd reduced the angel to this, that he had broken Heaven's best in this way.

And so he nudged against Castiel's mind with the Grace that Cas had originally given him, so long ago now, and it was merged into Lucifer, made a part of the whole. He sent that power as the softest touch, questioning, imploring. "You don't have to be alone..." Because he would open the connection again if Cas wanted it, would send errant thoughts and love in the dead of night when Dean would be asleep. Sam no longer slept, no longer needed sustenance or refreshment, simply needed the grounding presence of nature and creation, light and glory, cold and the depths of space.

Needed Cas more than he had let himself realize.

Castiel collapsed in Sam's hands, resting his weight on his cheeks and licking his bottom lip as Sam tried to explain. It hurt, both ways, it hurt so much to be with Sam, and it hurt so much to be without his true-mate. He wasn't sure which was worse in this moment with his lover and their dog so far below playing fetch. Both loves were different but no less valid to the angel. He shook his head slowly, carefully, letting Sam know that it was too late to lay blame in this situation, and they simply had to learn how to live and deal with the consequences. Sam hadn't failed him. He was the one who had walked away, who had ended up dying trying to protect his lover.

His heart torn in two when Sam offered him the connection they once share. The secret way they had communicated while riding in the car with Dean, while one did mundane things like fetched supplies. The link they had forged that kept them close even when the distance between them would have taken days to travel.

He wanted it, but at the same time, he'd made a vow to make Dean his priority while the hunter still lived. He knew that this would disrupt that vow to himself, and even though part of him whispered to be selfish and take the connection, the values of an angel were still hardwired into him. He didn't want to break another promise.

Shying away from the bond that had made him whole, he pressed his forehead to Sam's, running his hand through the brown locks with a soft sigh, weighted with regret. "I..." he wavered, trembling slightly, before giving a long sigh.

"I can't. Not.. right now," he breathed, his voice low and full of remorse. Sex with Sam was nothing he would blink twice at, but to forge that bond again while Dean lived would shatter all the promises he'd made to himself to put the remaining Winchester first. 

Sam didn't blame Castiel when he denied him, when he shied away, and in a way he had already expected that to be the answer. Dean. He knew it was because of Dean, and suddenly he was reminded that Castiel was with Dean right now, shouldn't be here with him.

 _Sam, if Castiel isn't running back to him, then it's not something you need to feel guilty for._ Lucifer said in his dulcet tones, Grace weaving through Sam's heart and fears like vines, holding them in place so he wouldn't disappear.

Adultery, had always been wrong, hadn't it?

_Technically, you hold the initial claim on him. Dean was the one who started a relationship with a bonded angel._

And it was so hard because Lucifer knew what he needed to hear and he never lied and it felt like everything he said was tailor made to fit what Sam needed. So he calmed himself down about the horrible thing this was for Dean and just held onto Castiel, resting their foreheads together and wrapping his arms around Cas' back as they had done so many times. "I understand, Cas. It's alright." If this life didn't break Castiel, then they would have all of eternity together.

The younger angel was unaware of the conversation between Lucifer and his vessel but he could sense a little hesitation before Sam's arms came around him again and pulled him closer, convincing Castiel was making a choice that Sam wouldn't hate him for. He heard Dean laughing and glanced down time to see Moose recovering from tripping in his eagerness to get the ball, and he sighed softly before turning his attention back to Sam.

He pressed his body against his mate's again, re-initiating the kisses, and letting his lips travel down Sam's jaw line slowly, laying kisses along the strong bone, and up to his ear, gentle, tentative pecks, each of them. He felt the need to give Sam something if not a direct link to his grace, but the words he spoke next were for Lucifer, finally acknowledging that his lover's body did not belong only to him alone.

"Is this alright? Am I allowed?" he breathed softly, running his hand slowly down the broad chest and up under the edge of the shirt, only his fingertips brushing lightly.

Sam smiled as Cas came alive in his arms, not voracious, but tender and loving, wanting. It certainly didn't hold the confidence they'd once had, but that was fair, was understandable. They were still so unsure where they stood and what they both wanted, it they wanted anything. "Is it...?" Oh, he was asking Lucifer. Smiling, he felt Lucifer flow a portion of Grace into his throat, his mouth, the cold Grace a welcomed sensation with his burning blood. "Yes, Castiel. It's alright." And he turned to place a chaste kiss on Castiel's forehead before returning to Sam's Soul, coiling around it in his favorite way, greedy, possessive, loving, and feral.

So Sam felt at ease, between his lover and his archangel, perfectly filled to the brim with Grace and love and sensation. The fingers ghosting over his skin sending pleasant reminders to him that this was real and immediate. He moved his own hands, finally taking off Castiel's open shirt, looking at a body that he knew as well as his own, had memorized in the light of a hundred different countries and the night of the deepest wilds. But he refrained from taking control, refrained from forcing Castiel into anythng. His eyes fell to the shoulders and neck that he had bit into so many times and he was reminded of his own betrayal of Cas' trust. This was why he would let Cas set the pace, do what he wanted, because he owed him so much more than this.

The blood no longer called to him, as his own veins now burned with that same brew, only a thousand times more potent, Lucifer transforming him into something just shy of divine, just short of monstrous. He'd never remembered what it felt like to have Lucifer inside him, not really; hadn't remembered the sensation of his skin wrapping around the sun, the only thing that kept him from burning alive was Lucifer's own freezing aspects of Space and Ice, making his body alive with a constant war of natures, pulsating with energy. So no, he had all the heady rush of power he would ever need again, and all he wanted was to prove to Castiel that he was whole now, could truly love him as he deserved to be loved, as he should be loved.

Letting Sam remove his shirt, Castiel felt the cool afternoon air kiss his skin as it had countless times before with both of his lovers, Lucifer's permission tucked firmly away. He leaned forward, taking a little breath as he found Sam's lips again, lifting a hand to brace himself on the trunk of the tree, and rolling his hips slowly, sensually. He had no idea if Lucifer had ever loved physically, and it was strange to think that his brother would be witness to everything, but he wanted this, and he wouldn't stop unless Sam asked him too. Three pairs of black wings that only they could see unfurled behind him as he rocked again, nails biting into the bark of the great oak, as his breathing became deeper and his pupils expanded with his want. He shivered harder, biting his bottom lip.

After a moment, he found his lover's pulse with his mouth and lavished it with attention that grew more and more fervent with each beat he could feel. He knew Sam was letting him lead, and so he did, finding one of Sam's large hands and pulling it to his chest as he found the Winchester's mouth and bit lightly at it before soothing it with several smaller kisses.

"Don't worry," he breathed, nodding slightly and swallowing hard. "I trust you." And maybe that was the wrong thing to say, or maybe it what the right one, but that's what it all boiled down to, wasn't it? Trust. The trust to love again, to give himself completely again to Sam, even though they'd both hurt and failed each other in unimaginable ways. "I need you. I need this."

Sam catalogued each touch, each kiss, each breath against his skin in case this was a miraculous fluke, something that might never come again. He saw those wings rise and he felt Lucifer inside him, and he knew that he was home, safe in the only arms he wanted. So he moved his hand with Cas', then let his fingers curl lightly into the muscle there, before moving down and trailing lightly down and around to the small of his waist. It was incredible to have this again.

He'd honestly never expected that it would happen.

He'd thought he'd finally hurt Castiel in an unpardonable way.

"You...?" Trust? Castiel still trusted him? There was a halfway broken laugh in the back of Sam's throat, too painful to even make it out his mouth, and it might have been a sob. "Cas..." And then he moved forward and buried his head in Castiel's neck, holding the angel close as his body was practically being worshiped.

 _You're wrong though Sam, you do deserve this..._ Lucifer whispered from deep inside him.

Castiel stopped immediately, taken aback by Sam's sob, leaning back to furrow his brows, searching his lover's eyes with nothing but concern in his own. He had to pause, putting his hand on the side of Sam's neck, ignoring the hand on his waist, everything in him needing to make certain that Sam was alright. He appeared confused as he tried to tilt Sam's chin up to him with both hands, making certain there were no injuries with a brief sweep of grace, though of course there were none. Still, it didn't make him any less uneasy. He stayed silent for a moment more before leaning forward to coax him into another kiss that started slow and and almost chaste, but quickly flared into something deep and demanding, bordering on the obscene.

He coaxed his lover along with movements of his body, rocking, rolling, pressing, grinding, trying to convey his own urgency with soft noises. Grunts, pants and whimpers were all part of his arsenal, and he whispered Sam's name against his lips, his jaw, his neck, and his ear.

Sam nodded into that kiss, hands clutching at first and then clawing, marking once again. He'd lasted a grand total of two minutes being passive, being broken, before he was fighting for control, fighting down the overwhelming feelings of being so completely and totally forgiven. Redemption was something that Sam never got, so it was sweeter on his tongue than any wine could ever be, more potent than any drug. As he practically dug his way into Cas's back, Cas' mouth, Cas' space, he found that it was all he could do to not demand more, demand assurances that he still didn't feel he deserved.

So he bucked back and let his hands dip to Castiel's ass, hicking the angel up against him again, holding him perfectly in place with his superhuman strength. Before, Castiel had always been stronger than him, holding back, but now... Now he was stronger than Castiel, and he would be lying if he said that didn't excite him. Finally breaking apart, out of habit and not a real need for air, he looked Castiel over, so glad at the want, lust, love, he saw reflected back at him. And in a voice that he knew had always pleased Castiel more than he'd admit, he whispered, "You don't have to be careful with me anymore Cas..." Because a thought that brilliant had to be shared.

The Seraph felt his lover's grip change from halting and slow to as demanding and needy as his own. He gasped to feel the new strength in Sam's limbs, a vitality that a mere human just wasn't capable of possessing on their own. He knew it was Lucifer that gave Sam the added strength, and he groaned as nails dug into his skin and Sam invaded his mouth, all too willing to meet Sam with his own passion. He had missed this, his first lover who knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted, and he was oh-so-eager to have it again.

Another roll of his hips ensued as Sam dragged him up, hips bucking roughly as his hands went back to the bark of the tree, fingertips digging in with enough force to sink about half an inch. He met Sam in every way, only breaking when Sam pulled back, because neither of them truly needed air.

The words Sam used sent an electric spark down his spine, and he swallowed roughly when he realized that they could finally be together, completely. Castiel wouldn't have to watch how hard he grabbed or touched, or pressed... And that thought was enough for him to drag them both far away from Dean, to a place much more secluded. There was no telling what kind of damage their passion could do with Lucifer present. Shoving Sam down in a feild of thick grass and falling over him, the angel dipped low and bit Sam on a pectoral muscle before looking up at him hungrily.

"Good," he purred, before descending on his lover again, intending to take what he needed.


	18. The Other Shoe Always Drops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had forgotten in his brief stint of happiness that the other shoe ALWAYS drops.

 

Weeks passed into months, which passed into years. Sam continued to check in on Dean and Castiel, and when he did, he no longer hid his presence from the angel. Instead he would announce it in little ways, like a flock of doves taking flight over their heads or the rain clouds parting into afternoon sun. They were simple things, little wonders of the natural worlds that Sam knew Castiel enjoyed as much as he and Lucifer did. They weren't the sorts of things that Dean often noticed, which made them safe to use; and when Castiel noticed them he would wait, filled with anticipation the entire day, until Dean had finally fallen asleep in his arms, only to disappear to where he would feel Lucifer's Grace nearby.

They talked some nights, made love to one another, stared at stars, and endlessly discussed how the other was doing. At first it had been a mad rush of tangled limbs and wild passion, reaffirming a bond that both had thought lost, but as time passed and they grew assured, they took their time, knowing they had forever.

Forever wasn't as long as they had hoped it would be.

Castiel had been so careful to never leave Dean's side, to not let his rendezvous with Sam endanger Dean at all. He' made sure not to think about those crushing kisses under the Pleiades, or the long walks down the bank of the Nile.

Forever wasn't as long as they had needed it to be.

He had never told Dean, because to Dean, Sam was dead. So it was lie that hung over his head, but each time he was held in Sam's arms, he knew it was lie that was worth it. Sam always told him that he was valiant in his efforts to save Dean from the truth of what had happened to his dear little brother, both of knowing that Dean would never understand that Sam was better like this, happier. Dean wouldn't have cared that Lucifer was happier like this. Cas had learned to care about that as well, because Lucifer was a part of Sam now, as much as Sam was a part of Lucifer, and anything of his mate was something he treasured.

Perhaps in his bliss or in an oversight, he didn't realize the way that Moose always stared at him after he would come back from a night with Sam, the way the dog would walk around to his side of the bed and rest his chin there, endlessly staring at Cas. Moose smelt the change in Castiel's Grace, the vestigial traces of Lucifer and Sam. Nor could he have known that Dean was sleeping less soundly, waking up more often to an empty bed, wondering where his angel was going off to.

Cas had been so careful to not be remiss in his dedication to Dean, to not love him less nor serve him poorly. Not once had he called out Sam's name in the middle of coitus, nor loved Dean in the manner that Sam prefered. He had been so careful, not out of guilt, but love; and perhaps it was flawed and the wrong way to go about it, but it was love. And that was why Dean's accusations, when they finally came, hurt so deeply.

"Who is it?" Dean asked, groggily as Castiel appeared back in their room, impeccably in order after a night in the Sahara Desert. Dean rolled over and looked at Cas, anger and hurt flashing through his eyes in the darkness. "Because it has to be someone. And you know, it's funny, because I saw that damned mark you had and I honestly told myself that it was a birthmark, and not to worry about it. Me. Who knows hickies better than almost anyone. But birthmarks, they uh, they don't just get bigger from one night to the next, right after you've been gone." His voice wasn't loud, nor was it dangerously silent, but almost flippant, as if he was daring Castiel to tell him that he was wrong. He knew he wasn't, but he wished, he wished that was.

Castiel startled then, head jerking up and eyes wide as Dean spoke for the first time after one of his returns, lips parted in completely surprise as Dean's voice asked him plainly who he had been with. A moment of confusion followed then, and the angel furrowed his brows as Moose whined softly and nudged his hand, tail wagging slowly back and forth. All was thrown into clarity though, when Dean mentioned the mark. The mark he had never let heal. Though he didn't understand why it would change, he knew better now than to zip off and check. That would only make Dean upset, make him feel dismissed.

The angel briefly thought that this might be the night his world crumbled around him, when all his lies would be laid bare, and Dean would leave him... But then he remembered he was an angel, and Dean a mortal, and the situation couldn't get out of hand unless he allowed it to.

Dean knew the mark for what it was now, and Castiel knew that a denial was pointless, but he still couldn't bring himself to... he would never be able to bring himself to say who had truthfully marked him.

Several moments passed in silence before Castiel sighed and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "I... It's no one Dean." He felt sick again to add another lie, especially when Sam was so important to him. "No one important," he amended before sitting slowly on the edge of the bed and petting their dog behind the ear. Hopefully Dean would accept that answer.

Dean was about to yell about how of course it was someone, had to be, when he heard Castiel's addendum. "Oh, not important. Am I no one important if they ask?" And the way he asked it was still flippant and slightly bitter, but there was a pain in his eyes that he couldn't quite hide. "Dammit Cas, what are you doing?" He pushed off the bed, standing in an effort to make himself feel like he had some control over this situation, stance wide.

"What is this, us, if you're going off and seeing no one important? Have I _ever_ cheated on you? No. I haven't." Which had been hard, and Cas _knew_ that. He had made sure to tell Cas every time he'd been tempted, asked Cas to take them somewhere and fill his memory with only Cas so he wouldn't need to let him mind wander to fantasies of others. In his naivety, he wanted to do monogamy right. Be a one man... man. It was a slap in the face to think that he was the only one who thought that way, when Cas _knew_ how much effort he put into this relationship.

And it wasn't just trying to curb his natural reaction of giving their waitress a double take either. He'd worked hard to try and actually include Cas in the decision making, to stop treating him like a baby in a trench coat. Hell, he'd forced Cas to pick out a birthday so they could celebrate it, finally make happy memories.

But this, this was how he repaid him?

"Why, Cas? Just need to know why. And maybe if you were planning on telling me sometime?"

Castiel opened his mouth and then closed it, blinking as he looked up at Dean. He'd begun to age in their five years together, his laugh lines more set, his freckles just a bit ruddier. Dean was fast approaching forty now, and the angel wondered what another forty years would do to his beautiful, lively hunter. How he could minimize the pain he saw in those eyes was the only thing on his mind, and he stayed seated, bowing his he almost submissively, though there was a slight set to his shoulders. He now no longer let his guilt eat and eat and eat at him, with Sam's coaxing he'd realized he'd actually done some good for both of the brothers in the end. There was a little pride in him again, and he did not quail or quake or worry at his lip as he used to.  

"No. Dean. He knows you're the most important person in my life," he said softly. "I've made it no secret." And he hadn't. He'd refused the bond with Sam, determined to make good on his vow while Dean was still living. Sam and Lucifer both knew that he intended it to remain that way as long as Dean lived. He owed it to the elder brother, and he could be patient.

Perhaps in Castiel's own naiveté, he had never realized that sleeping with more than one person was frowned upon. He'd seen Dean bring women home night after night, and he'd expected to continue even after they were together, but it never had. Dean had kept only the angel by his side. It all made so much sense suddenly that he could have slapped himself for it.

Taking a deep breath and pondering how to answer the last question, the angel remained surprisingly calm before looking up.

"I apologize, Dean," he said softly, to start things off. "I do it because... Sometimes my libido is more than a single mortal can safely handle." He hoped that it sounded plausible enough. Of course it did, he was an angel with power and strength, and for once it was the truth. He looked Dean over quietly. "I don't want to hurt you by asking too much.

There was no way Dean could satisfy some of the desires Sam could, there was no way that a mortal could handle his full strength, should he lose himself in passion but the angel didn't elaborate, only threaded his fingers together and pursed his lips.

So this other person, other man, knew about Dean, but Dean hadn't known about him? How did that make any sense to Cas? Dean narrowed his eyes and canted his head to the side, subconsciously having picked up on one of Castiel's habits. "So why does he know, but not me? Is it, what, important for him to know why you only visit in the middle of the night, but because I'm asleep, I don't need to know? What kind of crap is that, Cas?"

And Castiel's reasoning was that his libido was... Dammit Cas, He could at least sort of, halfway understand that, even if it sounded like a made up excuse. But he did know his angel, and Cas was insatiable once they got going. Had Cas been trying to hold back to protect him? That was just... crazy angel logic. Right.

Castiel felt the footing under him grow more steading as Dean asked questions he could answer more easily. He gave a slight smile and shook his head licking his bottom lip. "Actually Dean, it's exactly the opposite," and this was a lie, but he could make it work. He knew he could. It wasn't really that big of one as far as the grand scheme of things went. He let his earnesty trickle into his eyes for a moment as he looked up at his partner.

"It is important for him to know that I will never put anyone before _you_. I only go when you are asleep because I have never wanted you to feel less important, or inadequate in any way,  because of my needs. I didn't think my presence would be missed while you slept. And I cannot contract any diseases, so I did not believe that would be a concern."

He stayed seated, blue eyes studying Dean quietly as he untangled his fingers to pet Moose again.

Dean had been working on his anger this past year, something of a resolution, so he let out a breath and massaged at the bridge of his nose before he responded, trying not to escalate the fight as he so often did. "So, let me just... get this straight. You've been going off to your lover, whore, other man, because your libido is too much for me to handle, and you didn't tell me because you didn't want to hurt my feelings. Yeah? About sums it up? Well did you ever think what would happen if I found out, like now? How this would look to me, waking up and finding that you're gone, and not just once, but multiple times." It was a fine line between not getting angry and feeling like he was getting to be too sappy, but he figured as long as he didn't ask Cas to think about how this all made him feel, he was probably ok.

"Oh, and like I care about diseases at this point, Cas!" He exclaimed, still amazed how Castiel always stressed the wrong points.

"I don't like it. And you might not get it, but... we're a team, you and me. We work well together because I know I can trust you, you got my back. And this... I..." He shook his head, placing a hand over his mouth to keep from saying something stupid. Finally he dropped his hand, crossing his arms in front of him, a subconscious act to protect him, close him off from the man across from him. "I don't want to share you, Cas. I don't know if your feather brain understands that, but to me, that's pretty important. And just... Dammit Cas." He sighed again, fighting so very hard not to fly off the handle.

"But maybe we never talked about this. Right?" He had to just keep reminding himself that the things that were common sense to him, were completely alien to Cas, and it was never really any easier to accept.

The seraph shuffled his wings, beginning to feel the familiar tugging of guilt as Dean unknowingly called his brother a whore. He winced slightly and took a deep breath, giving a slow nod and then a shake of his head to both questions, watching the emotions play out across Dean's face and flicker in his voice. It struck harder when he realized that this wasn't the first time this had happened, that Dean had been left to wonder where he was on more than one occasion. The lip worrying began then as Dean snapped about diseases, and the angel's shoulders slowly dropped.

Moose whined softly and made his way across the room to nudge at Dean's leg, obviously attuned to the fact that his human friend was upset. Castiel watched quietly, trying to shoo the thoughts of Sam's lips on him away. Now was Dean's time, and he needed to pay careful attention to understand what was being said.

He winced again when Dean called him a featherbrain, the insult hurtful now when used in complete seriousness. He bowed his head down just a tad further, chagrined that he had misunderstood the importance of sleeping with only one partner. How could he stop though, when Sam owned so much of him? How could he give either of his lovers up. He was beginning to grow worried and shifted his feet restlessly, looking up at Dean, hoping the ultimatum he knew lurked wouldn't come.

"No, we haven't," he agreed, shaking his head. "I didn't realize that it was important I only slept with you, as long as you were fulfilled." he murmured.

Dean watched Castiel's reactions, slowly painting a picture of what Cas had understood and what he hadn't. He realized that in some ways, Cas was innocent, but that was awfully hard to hold on to when he felt so betrayed and jilted. Years ago Cas had chosen a dog over him, and yeah, it was turned out well for them, but he couldn't face the idea that Cas might choose a lover over him; and it didn't help that Cas had said he was the more important of the two of them, it was still a possibility as he saw it.

"Yeah, Cas." He huffed air out of his nose, incredulous that this was something he would have to explain or talk about, but knowing for Cas it was. "Fulfilled? Cas... you're..." More to me than just fulfillment. His mouth and mind weren't cooperating and all he needed to do was explain this so he didn't lose Cas like he'd lost Sam, and everyone else important in his life. He'd never said enough, and when he did he said the wrong things. So he closed his eyes and started, opening them only once he'd gotten enough momentum up that he knew he wouldn't stop in the middle.

"Cas, I don't want to just be fulfilled, and I hope that's not all you're looking for. I don't want you to leave, and call me crazy, but when you've got me and someone on the side, you're not loving either of us fully. You might one day up and decide that they're more important, and then I'm left here with Moose? No, I should have told you before, but I don't want to share you with someone else. I want you to freakin' grow old with me... well, you won't but I will. I... I've done the one night stands and they were fun, but I never wanted that from you. So either you pick me, or you pick him and whoever he's ok with sharing you with and go."

He looked at Cas, eyes dry and mouth set.

And just like that, a situation Castiel believed he could easily handle was out of his hands again. He felt immediately like his head heart had been torn in two, as much as he had expected something like this from the first moment, he'd realized, he'd prayed that Dean wouldn't do it, wouldn't make him choose. Different parts of him belonged to each of them, and he'd only just begun to learn what it felt like to be happy again. To have them both still, in his own way, even if the three of them weren't together, it was all Castiel had ever wanted. As usual, it seemed, his father had turned a blind eye to the lost angel he had once seemed to show favor for.

He couldn't blame Dean, the hunter didn't realize that the angel could love both of them fully, but in separate ways, and he felt sicker and sicker at the thought of giving up Sam for however long he would have to. Giving up Dean was not an option, would never be. He knew who he would pick, because their time together was limited, but it didn't hurt any less to know that he couldn't be with his mate.

The words Dean used were incredibly sweet for the most part, except for the ultimatum, and Castiel watched as Moose nudged his nose between Dean's knees and simply stood there. Exhaling softly, Castiel nodded slowly, knowing that any further discussion would not be an option for Dean. He'd just... have to tell Sam goodbye for awhile. It didn't hurt so bad to think of it like that, and he knew Sam wouldn't like it, but he'd understand in the end, in a way Dean could not.

"You know I'll pick you, Dean," he said softly, without a moment's hesitation. "I did not mean to hurt you." He looked up with sad eyes and rubbed idly at his wrists before looking down. "There is no one that comes before you, and I apologize for making you think there may be." There wasn't much else to be said now except hope that Dean could forgive him for not understanding.

Dean was so grateful that Cas hadn't needed a long time to think about it, hadn't flown off in a huff, or simply said no. There wasn't much he could really do if Cas hadn't wanted to go along with it, and he knew it. Letting his eyes close, he let out a slow, shaky breath. It felt like he'd dodged a bullet, and yet, at the same time it felt like the bullet had lodged itself in his side. He knew he wouldn't be able to trust Cas after this, not for a while anyway. He should have known that his life was going too well lately, too good to be true.

In the past few years he'd forgotten that the other shoe _always_ dropped in his life.

"Yeah... people rarely _mean_ to hurt us, Cas. They just do." He said, embittered, remembering how many times he heard similar words out of Sam's mouth.

Castiel continued to watch Dean silently for a few moments, made to feel guilty for loving his mate, made to feel guilty by simple words. They cut him deeply, though reminded him where his loyalties were supposed to lie. Standing up finally, he took a moment to compose himself, not approaching his lover yet. He knew Dean would want some time alone after this, he always did when he was upset, and he needed some time as well to come to terms with the fact that he had effectively just agreed to cut himself off from Sam for an undetermined amount of time.

"I will... go tell him," he said softly, at least remembering to be grateful for the fact that Dean had not pressed him for a name. He wasn't sure what he would have said in that case.

"I'll tell him, and I swear that it will never happen again." That was all he could offer in this moment. Dean would shun a physical comfort, of that he was certain. "I'll be back shortly," he murmured, and before Dean could stop him the angel was gone.

* * *

The first place he stopped was a bathroom in the diner he and Dean had stopped at earlier so the mortal could eat, where he noticed the mark had, indeed, increased in size so much that it peeked over the edge of his shirt collar. He wondered why it was still there, certain that it should have healed by now, and though he prodded his mind for answers and tried to forcefully heal it, it proved ineffective.

Making his way back to the Saharan Desert, to place where he could still see evidence of he and Sam's love making in the sand, he stood over the imprints left by their bodies for several moments and fought back his sadness.

With a deep sense of resignation, he reached out with his grace, a silent call to that portion the still resided in his chosen, his first words simple and quiet. _Dean knows I've been sleeping with someone. He asked me not to see you anymore._

Sam was standing in front of Castiel instantly, his eyes searching Castiel's face as if it held answers to the questions he hadn't asked yet. He started to reach out towards Castiel, but stopped himself, understanding that for this conversation they would need a physical distance between them. "Ah." There were plenty of questions to ask, but Sam was coming up blank, simply staring at Castiel, already knowing the answers that mattered. Castiel had used his own life as a bargaining tool to allow Dean to live, to be allowed to protect Dean.

Castiel was going to leave again, wasn't he?

Lucifer shot up his spine, Grace slithering around the column of bones as he made his way to Sam's mind, needing to understand this.

Trying to keep his face impassive, Sam looked down at his hands. "He, uh, doesn't know it's me, does he?" It wasn't the most pressing matter, but it was the best he could do at the moment, something to focus on besides the foreboding in his gut.

Castiel felt an ache he hadn't felt in years start in his bones, the ache of emptiness where Sam belonged already beginning. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and did his best to look Sam in the eyes, but when Sam's hand fell, so did his gaze. His lips remained parted as he moved his fingers slowly, drawing shapes into the dirt with his grace, as he tried to think of a way to say what needed to be said. He didn't like the look on Sam's face, though he knew his mate would understand. Neither of them would like it, but it was necessary to make Dean happy.

He felt like he'd fallen back in a hole it had taken him years to crawl out of. He felt like he had been forced right back into the same lost mindset he'd been in before he realized he could love them both, and really, that's where he was. The angel felt desperately sick having to choose between them. Again. But the choice had been made years ago when he'd vowed to protect and serve the last Winchester.

"Of course he doesn't," Castiel murmured softly. "I imagine this would be very different in that case." What an understatement that was.

"Sam... You know of my vow--," he started softly, reluctant to breach the topic, not really wanting to admit it was over, at least for a time. He raised his eyes and stopped drawing in the dirt, swallowing hard.

Sam nodded, posture stiff and unnatural. It would be quite different if Dean knew, but he wasn't sure if Dean would have come hunting after him to kill him for being happy in Lucifer's embrace or to bring him home. Either way, it didn't matter. It was a hypothetical situation that would never come to pass. There was no need to torture himself over something that was never going to happen. It still hurt.

"I remember it."

_We remember it..._

He smiled self-deprecatingly, trying to face this with as much grace as he could. "You have to watch over him... The last thing I'd want was for Dean to be alone." So I'll be alone in his place.

_You're not alone, Sam._

_"_ Well, I probably should let you know if I'm in the area then. Never good to go to that awkward, let's still be friends stage." Sam was only too well acquainted with what it felt like to take your own heart out of your chest and cut it to ribbons. He'd had too many occasions in his life to experience that unique pain and this time no different. "Probably shouldn't stop by at all so that you don't spend your days wondering if I'm near."

Castiel nodded, giving a weak smile as he watched Sam pluck his meaning from the few simple words, easily. He thought it might be okay. He thought Sam might not hold it against him, might assure him that Dean deserved it, and that he was doing the right thing by cutting off their sexual contact for a time.

But his smile faded quickly as Sam said something that made his heart throb, and he took a step forward, tipping his head in confusion. "Sam..." he started softly. "It's not.. It's not like that..." he tried, unsure of how to comfort in this scenario. He tried to set a hand out on Sam's shoulder, like he had in the first days of their friendship, though he didn't realize it was likely to reinforce Sam's misreading.

He wasn't saying he never wanted to be with Sam again, couldn't his mate see that? Castiel needed Sam as much as he needed his grace. He didn't want it to be forever. He wouldn't be able to stand it if that were the case.

"No, I know, Cas... You made a promise to protect Dean, and that still stands."

_I'll kill him for this._

Sam shook his head, telling Lucifer no, telling Cas that he wasn't confused. "I just... It wouldn't be fair to you for me to come around, and what's worse, is that it wouldn't be fair to Dean. No one's probably ever told you about affairs, but that's what Dean sees this as. Funny, Dean being the one who wants monogamy. I guess people do change." He placed a hand over Castiel's on his shoulder, glad for the comfort. "See, to Dean, you going off and being with someone, with me, is a betrayal of your relationship with him, and it's not just sex. You can have an emotional affair, where you wish you could be with that person... see where the problem lies there? So..."

Castiel was choosing Dean. It might not have been fair to say that, he knew Castiel had promised to return when Dean died, but those were two very different things. A promise was an obligation. He'd promised to take care of Dean for as long as he was alive. But he'd chosen Dean to make that promise. And now he was choosing Dean again to uphold that promise. It didn't matter that he understood all this, that he knew in the end Castiel would return to him, would have to, it still hurt.

 _He would honestly choose to leave you?_ Lucifer was perplexed and angry, his mind trying to wrap around the thought that anyone would choose someone other than Sam. Sam was his other half, was the world to him, so such an action was simply outside of the realm of possibility to him.

Sam tried to remind himself he wouldn't actually be alone after Castiel was gone, he'd still have Lucifer, but he'd grown accustomed to having both, to the way two angels loved him in complimentary but completely different ways. Castiel loved him like a fire, all-consuming and passionate and physical, and Lucifer loved him like ice, possessive and calculated and endlessly reassuring. There was no doubt that Lucifer would love him tomorrow, he was as close to a constant as a half mad archangel could be, while each day brought change with Castiel, a new location to visit, a new topic to discuss, a new position to try. He knew that Lucifer completed him, but somewhere along the way both he and Lucifer had begun to believe that Castiel completed them.

 _He made a covenant with you first..._ Lucifer reminded Sam, his Grace even colder than normal, arcing light from Sam's fingers.

The bonded angel furrowed his brows at his chosen, his expression still grim and saddened, even without knowing the conversation that took place between Sam and Lucifer. Sam was his first, the one his biology constantly told him was true-mate, the one his instincts would constantly home in on if his staunch angelic values hadn't been hardwired into him. Were promises and vows not involved, Castiel would have picked Sam. The guilt of this knowledge hit him hard, and his breath grew wilder as he realized that Dean was the one he was truly having an affair with.

Turned upside down by this knowledge, the angel trembled slightly under Sam's hand, though he nodded sullenly in understanding. It was all wrong, all wrong, this situation. Why had Sam said yes? He'd found over time that he didn't mind Lucifer's presence so much, but he wanted things to be simple again. He wanted things to be as they had before this whole mess. The guilt that rolled back onto him was suffocating, after so much time without it

The light arcing from Sam's fingertips caught his attention, let him know something more was going on, but he wasn't sure he wanted to ask. He wasn't sure what was happening, and he took a step back to distance himself. He should fight, he knew he should, tell Sam that he wanted to see him, if not have sex with him, but the clarity Sam had just given the situation had made him realize it would be wrong with what he had promised Dean.

So he didn't fight, only meekly took a few paces back, casting his eyes anywhere but the mate he had hurt again. Somehow he had hurt both brothers again in one fell-swoop. "I love you," he said softly, weakly, for it was all he could think of to say. Sam had to know that, right?

"You love him?" Lucifer asked, suddenly in control of the body he shared with Sam. It was only too clear that Sam was nowhere near the surface, as the cold radiated off of Lucifer, his stance perfectly balanced and ready. "You really are something else, little brother. You know how much this hurts him, don't you? How terrible he feels for forcing you to have to choose between him and Dean." There was a laugh that was mirthless and dangerously cruel. "He really is too gentle for his own good. But I suppose that's why he needed me."

The archangel began circling Castiel, Sam's body moving with fluid grace, a predator waiting to strike. "Just like all the other angels, choosing humanity over father... But really, choosing Dean over your mate?" He tilted his head to the side, eyes barely more than slits. "What is wrong with you? All Sam has ever done is love you, to the best of his abilities. But you, first you walked away because of your blood, but then you had him drink it to save all your lives. Hypocritical, wouldn't you say? And now, now you're going to leave him because his brother asked you to? I would have thought better of you, Castiel."

Lucifer was incensed that Castiel would choose anyone over Sam, could even contemplate that. The only human who Lucifer had ever loved, would ever love, _could_ ever love, was Sam. He was his completion, his solace, his other half. Over these past few years he had found a respect for Castiel, this rebellious little angel who was able to make Sam happy, and while he had been jealous that Sam would need love beyond his own, he had formed his own attachment to the younger angel. And so it was not only Sam whom Castiel was abandoning, it was him as well. All of this rang with a terrible peel of familiarity, angels choosing humanity, deciding to oppose him, to align themselves opposite to him.

And to think he had honestly contemplated allowing Castiel to tap into his Aspects for energy.

Castiel stiffened in the presence of his brother once more, Sam completely wiped from the dark expression. Anger had replaced Sam's sadness, a darkness that Sam hadn't exhibited since Castiel had pulled him from Hell, soulless. His own hands clenched into fists, and he swallowed, taking a deep breath as he fixed his elder brother with his own gaze, refusing to back down or cower. It was the first time Lucifer had uttered more than a few words to him since their arrangement began, and it didn't bode well.

Muscles in his body tensed as his wings unfolded from behind him, slowly beginning to flare in both anger and hurt as his brother shamed and humiliated him. He was aware of all these things, and with so much on his plate to handle already, guilt tearing him apart, the Seraphim had no outlet. Something in him snapped, like a sting drawn far too tight, and his own eyes narrowed into slits as his fists clenched. Sam understood, shouldn't Lucifer be able to?

This time there was no circle of fire to hold him back and the younger angel simply lost it. Even if he knew he could not win a fight, he was sick and tired of hurting, sick and tired of being blamed for everything. Rage boiled in him hot and fast, and he acted without thought, lashing out with his grace and tangling it violently into Lucifer's, intending to use pain to make his point as he stepped forward and reached up to grab at the collar of the clothing they wore. He snatched Lucifer's face down, wings flaring angrily as he showed his teeth. He wouldn't hurt Sam physically, he couldn't do that, but Lucifer's was fair game, and he had a perfect way to do that through their Grace.

"I am very aware that it hurts him." Castiel growled "Do you think it doesn't hurt me?" he hissed softly, jerking a little for emphasis. "Do you think it's easy for me to turn my back to him for any amount of time, when I love him more than our father? He has you, does he not? _You_ were the one who gave me time, who told me I could take care of Dean." He gave his brother another rough jerk. "I have to keep that promise. I made it to them both and I already failed once." he snapped pointedly, glancing Lucifer over before finding his eyes again. "I refuse to fail again, _brother_."

Lucifer easily deflected Castiel's attacks, his own Grace far stronger than Castiel's. He allowed Castiel to pull him forward, listening to his words with a somber expression, because he knew what he needed to do and he knew how much this would hurt Sam later, but it had to be done. There was simply no pardon for a betrayal like this. He hadn't been strong enough to defeat Michael when he had turned against him, Castiel was a different matter.

"Giving you time and permission does not justify leaving Sam, Castiel. Don't lie to yourself and put this on anyone else's shoulders. You made your bed, and now you have to sleep in it, with Dean... See, that's what I always found the most tragic. You _had_ to have realized," he finally unfurled his own wings, stretching them wide as he gripped Castiel by the throat and lifted him off the ground, "that you weren't free to be with Dean. You already gave yourself to Sam, but I guess love means something very different to you." Tossing Castiel away, he snarled. "Did you know that he told me that he was happy that you'd found some sort of happiness with Dean? But the whole time I could feel his heart, Castiel, and even though you had turned away from him, essentially because you found him too monstrous to remain with, he still loved you as much as he had been able."

"You thought that he had loved you less than you loved him? Of course, he did. He was only a human. Father gave them different heart than he gave us. They can't love the way we can, the way we do." And a seraph had no understanding of the way an archangel loved. Each one a separate entity with their own strength and limitations.

Lucifer loved like hurricane and a forest fire and an act of God. He was sound and fury and the center of a black hole. He could never love Sam more than he did, nor any less, for his love was not based on himself or actions, but as a state of being. He had never _not_ loved Sam, knew no other way to feel. His love was not tender, was not the whispers of lovers' skin sliding past each other in the night.

And yet for all that he was, he understood how Sam loved. Joining with Sam had caused him to understand the human's perspective, to see the flawed, beautiful way in which Sam tried to love. He knew that it was practically hard wired into Sam's nature to sabotage his own happiness, to love too much and restrain himself too little. So he understood the yearning for physical contact, the need to fill the emptiness of space and time with a lover so that eternity was not oppression but a promise. He had learned how love could be selfish and selfless and hurried and patient and a million dichotomies at once.

But he could not understand Castiel, nor the way he loved. To Lucifer it was the highest treason to choose anything over Sam, because he had never had any inclination other than Sam. Even though he understood that Castiel was tearing out his own heart to do this, all he cared was what this would do to his human, his vessel, his Sam. Lucifer had _shared_ , had opened the universe that contained just the two of them, and he had let Castiel inside, because he saw the love that Sam still held for him. And this was how they were repaid?

"If you had not taken Dean as your lover, this might never have happened. Dean would never have noticed that you left. You could have had _both_ of them, Castiel." He snarled, the selfishness of Castiel appalling him. "You could have protected your charge and had these nights with Sam. But as always, you overreached. You thought to love after your bonding, and look what it's brought you."

Walking over he stepped on Castiel's neck, bending down to look into his eyes, Grace holding Castiel in place painfully. "Misery."

Castiel snarled as Lucifer came back at him, blamed him for everything again, but the seraph had spent too much time already blaming himself for everything. He couldn't stand to shoulder any more, he couldn't believe it was _all_ his fault. It couldn't _all_ be put on him. This was a situation that he could not control, Lucifer was one of the most powerful angels their father had called into being, able to sustain his own enormous grace by tapping into nature itself. It was a distinction not afforded to any angels that came after, for fear of what Lucifer had done repeating itself.

His hands came up, clawing at the hand on his throat as the breath was squeezed out of him, and the angel gave a soft whimper that was partly another snarl, eyes narrowed but still full of pain. Lucifer didn't know him, didn't know how he felt, how deeply he had sank, and it angered him that his brother presumed to know anything. Sam had realized himself that he hadn't loved the angel bonded to him, but in the end, he had, it was simply different. Castiel had realized it. Sam had realized it and they both had accepted it. To have Lucifer decide what was best for them was insulting and degrading, and Castiel wouldn't stand for it any more. He grunted as he was thrown, grains of sand flying through the air as he hit the ground with force a mere human would never have been able to produce. Coughing, he tried hard to gather his wits.

He coughed as a foot landed on his neck, pinning him to the cold ground with a power beyond what Castiel could fathom. The angel could lift an anvil that weighed a ton, but he could not budge Lucifer. Gasping, kicking his feet and digging his fingers into the shoe on his throat, he managed to grit out.

"Do not tell me how to love, or how many to love," he spat. "You know nothing. You're as selfish as anyone, Lucifer. It's entirely possible to love more than one. Maybe not in the exact same way, but it makes neither less valid." Yes, he was miserable now, that was true, but he had still been happy before. "Dean needed me, and I needed him. I thought Sam was lost to me. I couldn't..." he coughed again, and pushed harder. "I couldn't ignore something to pine for something that might have never happened. Sam understands, why can't you?" Squirming in the sand, the angel grit his teeth and closed his eyes, giving a soft cry.

"I'm not abandoning Sam. It's not forever," he tried to explain. "I just want to make these years the best for Dean, and Sam wants that too. It's not the situation either of us wanted, but we know it's not forever. It will be over soon enough!" Lashing out again with his grace, railing almost desperately against the overwhelming wall of power that Lucifer exuded, Castiel found he still could not break free.

"I can't understand it because it simply does not make sense. As an angel, I would have expected your love to mean a little more than moving on when you thought Sam was lost to you. Do you think I stopped loving Father simply because he excommunicated me, threw me into the Cage? Of course not. When you love someone, you don't only love them when it's convenient for you, you don't take breaks in the middle and promise to meet back up in fifty years. That's self-gratification and lust."

"It meant everything to me!" Castiel shrieked against the foot. "I didn't want to continue without him! And I did because I knew he wanted Dean to be happy. Dean couldn't lose everything, like I had!” He gasped, throwing his head back and writhing. "I have never stopped loving him. Just because I found room in my heart for another lover doesn't mean I ever loved Sam less! I gave him part of me. I gave him Grace!" He hissed at the mounting pressure on his neck. "The promises you've made to Sam are the same in nature as those I made to Dean! I cannot break them. I just.. I can't and Sam understands! He knows I'll come back. I've made a promise to you as well!"

He had faced down Lucifer before, but he'd never been so frightened, or had so much to lose, with his one purpose in life making Dean happy. There was no stopping the apocalypse now, but he could never forgive himself if Dean's life was not the happiest it could be. The Winchesters had fought so hard and asked for so little in return, that Castiel had made it his mission to make certain they got at least a little of what they deserved.

Sam's eyes were glowing with Lucifer's light, a colour that was far beyond human sight, indescribable in a million different ways. Light arced from every inch of his skin flowing and moving like plasma. Lucifer was ancient, his love was eternal, he could not forgive a lesser being for thinking temporally, for stopping and starting, inconsistency. The Morningstar was great and terrible and utterly insane in that moment, the energies of creation flowing through the sole remaining archangel alive and free, and he was furious.

"And so you have, little brother. You'll live out your days with Dean, but I'll make sure that you return at the end. You'll have to, or you'll die."

Reaching down, he drove Sam's hand into Castiel's Grace, fingers clenching tight on the energy. And then he pulled.

There was the sound of a curtain being torn asunder, strand and sinew snapping. There were screams. Lucifer had pulled almost all of Castiel's Grace from his body, rendering him little more than a human, leaving him just enough to last him the rest of Dean's life.

Holding the faintly blue energy in his hand, he compressed it down, forming a gem that flashed like lightning in the light of the desert moon. "Don't worry, Castiel, I'll take good care of this for you," Lucifer said, a deep sorrow in his eyes, but his voice was steeled and scathing. He had loved Castiel in his own way, and having to do this to ensure that the angel would return to Sam, to him, when all was said and done was horrid, but what choice did he have? Everything he had seen from Castiel pointed to an angel who was inconstant and unreliable, an angel who had played at being god and had broken Sam's mind. He saw an angel who was loved by Sam, but he had no guarantee that love would be returned by an angel who was so easily swayed by emotions and situations. Castiel had at one point thought of killing himself. What would he do if Castiel did, leaving him alone to console Sam.

So he had to. He had to make sure Castiel would come back.

Before he could even begin to contemplate what was happening, a hand had driven itself into his body, grasping at his thrashing grace in much the same was as Castiel had to grasp a soul. Pain unlike anything he had ever experienced flooded through him, stopping his lungs and even his vessel's heart for a few beats. And then he was screaming, screaming so loudly and so hard that he could feel the soft membrane vessel's throat tear from the force of them. He coughed, pawing desperately at Lucifer's hand as he felt the majority of his grace torn away, skinned off the angel like a pelt from a carcass. He coughed again, the screams dropping off as the pain slowly ebbed, though the seraph was far, far from okay.

Raw, and essentially raped of his lifeforce, the younger angel lay on the ground, motionless, except for a twitchy sort of trembling, nearly driven into shock by the trauma. Blood spattered his face where he had sprayed it into the air and it had fallen back on him, but he didn't care, he couldn't. Pale, cold, and completely drained, the young angel looked up at his brother with absolute dejection, shaking violently as he gulped for air.

This had turned out worse than he could have ever imagined. How would he even get home, back to Dean? He tried to raise himself up on an again, but still found it impossible, and trembled as he simply stared at his brother, unable to believe what had just transpired.

"Lucifer--," he finally rasped. "Please…"

Lucifer bent down and grabbed Castiel by the arm, hauling him upright. A trickle of Grace passed through his fingers, healing Castiel of the physical wounds and steadying him some. It was not the archangel's intention to kill Castiel, but removing Grace was always a traumatic experience. He felt no need to explain his actions to Castiel, no need to say anything to the angel ever again if he could help it; although he had no doubt that their paths would cross again once Dean died. So he simply held Castiel with one hand and placed his other hand on Castiel's back and _pushed_.

Castiel disappeared back to where he'd come from.

In the middle of the desert, the air smelling of ozone and the light of an alien sun, Lucifer stood looking at the flecks of blood in the sand. His Grace coiled back in, retracting his wings and the light still leaking out of him, wrapping tightly around Sam, keeping him safe. But if anyone could have seen it, it would have looked more like a frightened child holding onto their teddy bear, hoping that everyone wouldn't hate them in the morning.

And then only the flecks of blood and the signs of a scuffle remained, but they'd be blown away by the next breeze in the shifting landscape of the dunes.

* * *

Lucifer had just sentenced him to death, if he ever changed his mind about going back to Sam. He wouldn't have before, he'd been committed to keeping all his promises, but this... This was blackmail. Over the few years they'd had together, the angel had grown more accustomed to Lucifer. He still wasn't able to understand why his brother wanted to purge the Earth, but he'd realized that Lucifer had loved Sam as truly as an angel could and his uneasy tolerance had begun shifting into acceptance.

Before this.

Now, wounded and weak, stumbled in the closed Diner's bathroom and then sank down wearily against the wall, holding the sink for support as he gave a soft sob, that he could not hold in. With so little grace, he wouldn't be able to reach the distance to Sam when he wanted to speak, if Sam was not close by. And he knew Sam wouldn't be again, not while Dean was alive.

The full magnitude of what had just happened hit him, and Castiel cried silently for hours, knowing he could no longer do trivial things for Dean. He couldn't waste what little grace remained to him. He'd have to save it.

Wearily, the angel finally climbed to his feet, washing his face in sink as he had seen Dean so often do before he pointed his feet out of the diner and in the direction of the motel he'd left his lover in. He had to constantly remind himself not to let on, not to act as if anything was amiss, but the  empty ache inside of him had doubled or so in just a few minutes time.

Castiel was lost again. Completely lost. One hour he'd been the happiest he could be, and the next, he'd hurt both of his lovers and been humiliated by his brother, stripped and shamed and humiliated in impossible ways. By the time he managed to reach the motel, the angel's already damaged body was screaming with exhaustion, and he wanted to sleep, badly. He wondered if Dean was still awake, and took a deep breath, knowing that the door was locked, though he could hear Moose pawing from the other side and whining almost frantically at Castiel's state, which only grew into short plaintive barks when Dean didn't move fast enough for his liking.

Foregoing knocking the angel simply sat on the sidewalk, his back to the building, staring blankly out over the parking lot and the sun that was beginning to rise. Not all wounds could be hidden, but he gave it his best.

Dean awoke to the sounds of Moose scratching at the door, but only realized the dog was earnest about his need to get our when he started barking, which was quite rare for the silent dog. So he pushed back the covers and stood up, the night air cold against his bare skin. "Alright, alright... Why do you need to head out _now_ Moose?" As he walked over towards the door, it didn't escape his notice that Castiel hadn't come back yet and the clock on the as was already reading five a.m.

He grabbed his leather jacket so that he'd have a little more than just his boxers to protect him from the cold while he let Moose out, shrugged it on as he undid the deadbolt. "Ok, out we go." Pulling the door back, he saw a strange shape on the curb in front of their room and his hunter instincts kicked in. He dropped down slightly, centering his weight so he'd be ready for an attack. But Moose let out a distressed whine and bounded towards the figure, pushing his nose against what Dean would assume would have been the figure's bowed head.

Moose only ever touched him and Cas.

"Cas?" He called softly as he walked out and kneeled down next to him. "Cas, what's goin' on? Why're you out here?" Could the angel have been out here the entire time after telling his lover to leave? Something hurt inside of Dean and he couldn't help but feel guilty if that was the case. He hadn't meant to make Cas feel that he wasn't welcome to come back once it was over. Yeah, he needed some space, but it was freezing out and no one should look so all alone as Cas did right now; head buried between his knees and arms holding himself tight.

As he heard the lock turning in the door, Castiel tried to move, to rouse himself from the miasma of terrible pain as his and Dean's dog nuzzled his head, licked his ear, pressed his wet nose against angel's face. The seraph lifted his hands, tangling them into the shaggy fur, clinging without ever lifting his head. With Dean swiftly approaching, he needed to get himself under control, and quickly, to pretend as if he hadn't just been forcibly torn apart. He couldn't lie to Moose, but Dean was another matter.

He relaxed his limbs with a sigh and looked up slowly with a bit of a smile, his face still pale and his usually bright eyes rather dull after everything that had happened. He petted the dog a little harder as Moose buried his face in Castiel's lap, whining softly, knowing one of his friends was hurt. The dog could feel the absence of Grace where he knew it should be, and he could feel the pain and fear radiating from Castiel's pores, despite the show he put on for the human. One couldn't fool a dog with a smile.

"Just, waiting for the sun to rise." Castiel said softly, giving a slight smile. "I didn't want to wake you." Never mind that his trench coat was covered in dust from the desert and the road. "I wanted to apologize again, but I wanted to let you sleep first." he said softly.

Dean looked between Moose and Castiel, knowing that something was wrong, but not sure what. Maybe their dog was just picking up on Cas' sadness over having to ditch his lover, although that had to have been something pretty intense for Moose to be this worried. A stab of pain went through his heart as he contemplated that the man that Cas had gone to for his excess libido might have actually meant something to him. Well, of course he meant something, sex did that to people, all that brain chemistry and stuff, but still.

And since when had Castiel ever woken him? He awoke more often than not to see Cas just standing there, looking at him, saying he'd been waiting because he didn't want to wake him.

Something was off.

"Dean, in the interest of remaining honest with you..." Cas started softly. "There's something you need to know."

And shit, anytime people were honest in his life, it meant that something bad was about to be dropped onto his plate and his world was probably going to shift upside down again. But he fought his fear down and nodded, holding Castiel's gaze, "Yeah?"

Castiel cleared his throat, having decided that this conversation was necessary in the face of his flagging Grace. He couldn't use it flippantly anymore, he no longer had thousands of years to waste before it seeped out. He was as limited in his time as Dean was, and he had to make certain that his lover knew just because he wouldn't be able to perform some of the same tasks in the same manner anymore, it didn't mean he didn't love or care for Dean any less.

"When I fell, Dean... I was cut off from my Host," he said softly, looking up at the sky and knowing Dean wouldn't understand without explanation. "The Host is what gives an angel its powers." Shifting, he stood slowly, achingly, and stretched out his legs, as Moose whined plaintively again and looked up at them both with liquid brown eyes. "It's what replenishes an Angel's Grace." Turning to his lover, he tucked his hands into his pockets.

"My Grace is... fading... Dean, and once it's gone, so am I." Pausing, he let that sink in. “So I-- I can't.. I'll... have to act more like a human. I cannot use my power frivolously anymore," he murmured, dropping his gaze to the ground. "Only when absolutely necessary."

Dean listened to Castiel's words, a weight growing on his heart. And the only thought that rang through his head was one he'd always known, reminded himself of a thousand times, and still had momentarily forgotten.

The other shoe always drops.

He stood up and looked out over the parking lot at the rising sun, hazy light just starting to wash the world in pale blues and dusty golds. He couldn't look at Cas for fear that the angel would see how worried he was. Cas would be gone? Was it a thing that happened all at once, one moment there, another Jimmy's body dropped to the ground, empty and void? Or would it be something painfully slow, with Cas aging like Dean, slowly bending at the shoulders and stooping in his spine?

Eyes trained on the horizon he tried to speak but had to clear his throat to get any words out, "How... how long do you have?"

The Seraph looked in the same direction as Dean, watching the sun paint a masterpiece as grand as any human ever could. He wondered what must be going through his lover's head, what Dean must be thinking to know that they both had timers. Castiel wondered what would happen if he let his own run out, without ever crawling back to Lucifer. God's Chosen had no right to his loyalty after what he'd done. He was weak now, only barely able to feel the pulse of Grace that tethered him to his vessel. What would it be like when it was too weak hold him inside Jimmy's body. Would his spirit simply separate and float aimlessly until the remaining Grace was gone? Would it be peaceful?

Slowly, Castiel reached out and took Dean's hand, wrapping his fingers around his lover's before squeezing gently, reassuringly.

"Fifty, maybe sixty years." A mere blink of the eye. "As long as you do." He fixed Dean with his gaze then, giving him a gentle smile, reassuring him once more that he would not leave Dean alone.

Dean put his hands on the top of his head, fingers laced together, his jacket pulling open with the motion, exposing him to the cold. So at least Cas had told him a ways out, but still...

"As long as me..."

He looked down at Cas and frowned for a moment, before he sat down next to him. "Come 'ere." An arm looped around Castiel's shoulder pulled him into Dean chest, but the fingers gripped a little too tightly for the gesture to just be for Cas, to just be comforting. Dean was holding on to Cas as much as he was trying to let Cas hold onto him. "Ok... ok, we can work with that." And he sounded so much like he was trying to convince himself. "Hell, that's way longer than my parents got." Together. At all. Longer than Sam got.

"We can work with this," he echoed as he turned and planted his face into Castiel's hair, taking deep breaths, garnishing comfort from the familiar smells and warmth.

Castiel nodded slowly and allowed himself to be pulled into Dean's arms, leaning forward to grip his lover's leather jacket in the cold morning air. Moose whined and lay next to Dean, setting his head in the hunter's lap with his ears cocked back, as Castiel wrapped an arm around Dean's waist, taking what comfort he could from a mortal embrace. There was no Grace to sooth him or tangle with his, no mental bond that they could spread their thoughts along without words.

His hunter hurt, he hurt, and though they hurt together, they also hurt separately, in a thousand different ways.

"I'll see you to Heaven, Dean. I swear." He wondering if he would have the ability to make that journey when the time came. He pulled away and leaned up, setting his hand on Dean's bare chest to find his lips, claiming them gently, almost chastely.

"At least this means you get to drive everywhere in the Impala," he said softly, attempting to inject some humor into the situation, as he learned many humans did in times of melancholy.

Dean couldn't care about going to Heaven, what he knew of it was that it was filled with dick angels, and he didn't want to be any closer to them than he already was on Earth. But at the same time, Sam was up there, and his mom, and probably even dad, slipping out of the gates of Hell like that. So he'd join his family again, now wouldn't that be something? And if Cas came, would Heaven let him in? He'd Fallen, but there was no way he could be of any danger to them now. He couldn't be much a threat anymore, could he?

But then Cas was kissing him and he decided to not think about it, to bury it all down deep and just take the best care of Cas that he could. He'd watched over Sam his whole life, so now he'd just switch that to Cas.

He laughed a little at the mention of the Impala, but it was mostly for Castiel's benefit, and once again he remembered Frank's words, a smile slipping onto his face even though his world was breaking apart again. He'd be a damn professional about this because he had to be, he'd be strong enough for both of them.

Castiel hurt in ways he could not describe, ways there would never be any words for with his soul literally shredding by the robbing of his Grace and the knowledge that Lucifer may never even let him speak to Sam again when it came time to pay his debt.  For all the times Dean had called him a baby in a trenchcoat, he had never felt so much like one, not even when he was a young fledging. His control had been wrenched from his hands violently, and there was nothing he could do to recover it. He felt like a leaf tossed about on a violent sea, always _just_ floating again, with bit after bit torn off by the creatures in the dark below.

He smiled again and rested his head on Dean's shoulder, turning his face back to the sunrise, determined not to take this moment for granted. He knew Dean was not alright, and he knew neither was he, but all they could do at the moment was hold one another and hope that time would begin to repair them again. He would half to live without half of his soul, but he'd survived everything so far hadn't he? Not that he had always wanted to.

It was only a few seconds later the angel succumbed to a very rare sleep, which might be more telling than it should of his utter exhaustion, body slumping slowly against his lover's, lips parting as he simply stopped trying to fight the weariness he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Dean looked down in mild surprise when Castiel fell asleep, but it made sense. Cut off from the mothership, Cas just didn't have the juice anymore. Sighing, he gathered Cas into his arms and stood up, making his way for the door. "Come on Moose," he called, but he hadn't needed to as Moose was already trotting along by his side, ears and tail drooping. The situation had to be pretty bad if even Moose didn't feel up to cheering them up.

So he slipped back inside and put Cas to bed, trench coat and all. He tucked him in but didn't go to bed himself. Instead he grabbed one of his bottles of Jack and stood in front of the window, watching the dawn sun change the sky from black to navy to robin’s egg blue, not a cloud in the sky.

He, well, he wished it was raining.


	19. There Is No Home for Those Who Have Destroyed Their Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Castiel gets injured during a routine salt and burn, events take a turn for the unexpected.

Hours of digging had made the angel's limbs sore and weak, shaking as muscles in his back, shoulders, and arms burned. He breathed hard, fogging in the cool night air, lingering eerily in the glow of the impala's tail lights. Baby was parked outside of a large cemetery, backed up to a set of wrought iron gates that they hadn't needed to cut through, only climb over. Panting, Castiel licked his lips and cursed softly under his breath, digging through the endless supply of stuff Dean had amassed over the years of hunting.  
  
  
They'd had the salt, they'd brought fuel, but of course they'd forgotten the lighter.  
  
  
The moon hung low in the sky and Castiel glanced back over his shoulder at the lantern in the distance, the one they had used to dig by. He could hear Moose growling and barking faintly, even from this distance. That dog had never liked cemeteries, with so many lost souls about, and he couldn't blame him.  
  
  
It had been hard, adjusting over the last six or seven years to the loss of his Grace, the veil between realms was a barrier to even him on most nights. He barely remembered what his wings looked like, locked in a human body with only a fraction of the  power he had once wielded.  
  
  
Still, he had lived, and he had yet to age a day, though his lover had. Dean was forty-six now, the honey wheat hair turning the color of salt in some areas, the limbal ring around the beautiful green irises fading. To anyone else, Dean was still a handsome man for his age. To Castiel, he was one of the most beautiful and precious things in existence; especially since he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Sam or Lucifer in all of that time. His love for Dean had only grown stronger in those years, forced by his utter lack of anyone else besides the Winchester or Moose. He could never bring himself to befriend other hunters, or anyone for that matter, knowing that they all fought in vain.  
  
  
Still, he had hunted with Dean because it gave Dean purpose and drive, and Castiel couldn't take that from him. He'd learned to fight like a human did, letting Dean train him, only using his Grace in the worst of situations. And so here they were, sneaking into a cemetery to dig up and burn the bones of the woman they suspected was a woman in white, and he was cursing because he had to use his tired body instead of his grace to find the damn lighter.  
  
  
It hadn't been in Dean's pocket, it hadn't been in the front seat of the impala. They'd just bought it earlier that day, so where could it be?  
  
  
Scrubbing his hands over his mouth in frustration, he gave a hiss and then dug down in the mess or weapons and items, checking each of the pockets for a spare. He really wasn't in the mood to hear Dean joke about how he thought Cas had intentionally forgotten it so he could watch Dean's ass while he worked. Sometimes jokes like that were endearing, and sometimes they were infuriating.  
  
  
Tired and grumpy from digging until his palms bled, this was one of the times Castiel knew it would be infuriating.  
  
  
A chill wind blew in from the edge of the forest, bringing with it a disturbung darkness as a cloud bank crossed in front of the moon. The soft sounds of the night suddenly silenced with the wind and the resulting silence held a dangerous edge to it. That's when she appeared, just beyond the edge of the forest, her white dress tattered and frayed and ethereally beautiful in the dead of night. She had a hand resting against the trunk of a particularly old elm tree, fingers curling into the bark as he sensed that her grave was being defiled. Flickering out of sight, she reappeared inside the graveyard, eyes scanning over Dean as he dug, looking not only at his physical self, but his memories and heart. He had been a wild youth, but now he was a perfect example of loyalty and fidelity. Even though he was digging up her grave, his blood called not for repentance or vengeance, so she turned her attention to the man outside the gate.  
  
  
Appearing behind him, hands gripping the steel bars of the fence, she read him like a book, and oh, how fallen he was. This man, thing, confused the specter, as he felt not like a human, but must have been. Her meager amount of reasoning, of memory, had never encountered a being like him before, but she knew what she did to those who hurt their loves by adultery, by wandering eyes and reproachful appetites. For this man had had a perfect love, but left them, had picked them back up, having two loves at once. His history read to her like a ledger writ in blood, and it sickened her.  
  
  
Moving closer, to his side but behind him just slightly, she whispered, "Where did you let your eyes stray little lamb?" She flicked out so that she would not be there when he turned, and her voice came from the other side of the car. "Whose flesh did you grip in the middle of the night?" And again she moved, this time back to the far side of the fence, "If not your love, then you lover?"  
  
  
Perfect, just perfect. Exactly what he needed. Castiel jerked upright, bringing with him a shotgun loaded with rocksalt, his eyes narrowed as he leveled it at the space behind him. Empty. Spinning around as her voice jumped, the angel grit his teeth, as the impala blocked his view. No good. He tried not to think on what she said. He tried to ignore the chill wind and the frightening voice. He tried to forget Sam, even though the younger Winchester was on his mind constantly.  
  
  
 The years without had hardened Castiel somewhat. He'd had to learn to live without grace, which included things like taking showers and driving to the store, getting drunk on far lesser quantities of alcohol and brushing his teeth, sleeping every night. He'd had to learn to dispatch all manner of creatures without his powers. If Sam had known what Lucifer had done, surely he would have come back. Surely he would have apologized, given Castiel his grace back. But years had passed and there had been no such reprieve, and while his hatred for Lucifer had grown, spread like a poisonous ivy through him, his longing for Sam had grown too. He missed his bonded even more with each passing day.  
  
  
He spun again as her voice hopped, once more, finger on the trigger of the shotgun, feet planted as he tried to aim a shot. He didn't have time to fight her off when they were so close to being done. Now where the hell was that lighter? Blue eyes were almost angry, as the ghost reminded him of what had reduced him to little more than human in the first place. "Who I've loved is none of your concern," he growled softly. "I am faithful now."  
  
  
She appeared then, just bright enough to draw attention in the dark night. "I am vengeance made of promises broken and vows destroyed. What you've done and who you've loved is the concern of all those wronged and tortured." Beckoning him to come towards the gate, she kept moving just enough that should he fire his shotgun, she would be able to dodge. Her once beautiful face was drawn by pain, showing the lines not of age but of insanity, where loneliness and heartbreak had robbed joy from her.  
  
  
"You are faithful now? To whom? Your bond remains, no wedding band or midnight promise, but a bond all the same." Flickering just a little further back, she attempted to draw him towards the fence again. "And yet you live apart from them, with dedication and with pain. You can never go home, we can never go home."  
  
  
Her hair blew wildly as her pain summoned a foul wind, grabbing at her hair and dress, tossing them about. "There is no home."  
  
  
"There is no home..."  
  
  
Castiel grit his teeth and moved forward, watching her flit about, watching her stay just out of the range of the shotgun. He'd have to get closer, and that was not something he particularly wanted to do, but he certainly couldn't resume looking for a lighter with her hovering about. Cautiously, slowly, he took a few steps forward, his eyes still narrowed. He felt some pity for her, but that wouldn't last long. It was terrible that she'd died so tragically, but his lover would die happy, and he would see to that.  
  
  
He stalked closer, step after step, lowering his shotgun just enough to attempt to put her at ease. "Yes, I bonded with someone. I cared about them deeply. It's over and they... They've moved on. I'm faithful to my lover, I've made a new home," he said softly, the dead grass hissing as he moved through it.  
  
  
"C'mon--," he almost drawled, having picked up some of Dean's habits over their time together. "We'll be able to send you home if you just hold still," he murmured to himself, hating the memory of purgatory that conjured up. Taking a few, long steps forward, he pulled the trigger when he thought she was in range.  
  
  
She disappeared before the salt could reach her, and her voice sounded on the breeze, "They moved on? You think they could possibly move on? They have no idea where you went or what happened, just lies from the star of the morning." And then the Impala roared to life, backing up right for him. The impact would have been worse if the car had of been driving forward, instead of hitting him with the rear bumper, but that wasn't her concern. Her entire goal had been to get him close enough to the fence that the impact was the last of her worries.  
  
  
Castiel grit his teeth, hating that his mind was so unprotected, hating that he was so easy to read. All of his thoughts and fears had been laid bare, all of his pain and regret were palpable to this creature, made entire of pain. He'd missed the shot, but he pumped the gun again, determined not to miss the next, wherever she was. The sound of Baby's engine starting when Castiel could tell at a glance Dean was still out digging had him whirling on his heel, stumbling backward as the car backed toward him, trunk still open.  
  
  
Instinctively he shot at the car as he stumbled back over the damp ground, though he knew Dean would be angry. His heel sank in some of mud and he slipped, falling backward with another curse, flailing wildly with the arm that didn't hold a gun.  His own weight drove him onto the spikes of the fence, the angel seized slightly as pain tore through him, reminding him of his own blade in his kidney after the confrontation with Pharzuph.  
  
  
And sure enough, it had worked. The Impala sent him back a few steps, falling right onto the fence that stood about mid height on him. The sharp posts digging into his side and back, all digging in an easy six inches. Appearing next to him she knocked away the gun and watched, her mind dimly remembering butterflies pinned to a display board inside her husband's office. "There is no home for those who destroy their own."  
  
  
This wasn't good at all, he didn't have the grace to heal a wound like this, he already knew it. He dropped the gun as she knocked it away, gritting his teeth and crying out softly as he tried to pull himself off of the spikes. He could hear Moose barking frantically at Dean in the distance, but he was more worried about the woman who stood before him.  
  
  
His voice rasped as he trembled, blood wetting his shirt and making it stick to him. "I haven't. I've made one." But he was going to destroy that, wasn't he? He was going to end up destroying the entire world someday, and anyplace on it he had ever hoped to call home. He gave another cry as he tried to get his feet under him enough to pull himself off.  
  
  
Dean heard the shotgun going off and the soft cry of Castiel in pain, and he knew he needed to go faster. With one last thrust, he'd uncovered her coffin, and he smashed the shovel down against top of the coffin again and again until it caved in enough to see her bones. Going through the motions with practiced efficiency, he salted her and then threw on the gasoline, but... but Cas had been off getting the lighter.  
"A home built on lies and deceit," she wailed, pushing him further onto the spikes, her pain and loneliness making her nearly unintelligible. "You find no peace in this, only duty."  
  
  
Castiel gasped helplessly as the spirit pinned his down, forcing him further onto to the spikes, the twisted rusty iron wreaking havoc on his vessel's vitals. His grace strained to heal what it could, but it was no use healing a wound with a splinter still stuck in the body. His heels dug furrows into the ground as the angel trembled and continued to drain of color.  
  
  
Moose came then, jumping the gate and barking at her furiously. There was little the dog could do to affect the spirit, but with her attention somewhat divided, Moose dove into the trunk and hunted for the lighter, finding it by smell far faster than either hunter would have by sight.  
  
  
Castiel glanced at Moose, who was a better addition to their team than most human hunters would be, before turning his attention back to the lost soul they were trying to rid the world of.  "That's not tr-truenngh--," he gulped hard, dry lips parting as his fingers tightened, trembling in pain.  
  
  
"Maybe not complete peace, but I am faithful. I am happy," he panted, lying to himself as well as the spirit, and noticing that the spike that had sunken into his side had exited the front, staining his shirt just above the hip. He shivered again, feeling vaguely disconnected, and somewhat cold.  
  
  
Moose whimpered at Castiel, wanting to stay and help, but the dog had been around enough hunts by now to know that his attempts to attack ghosts did nothing, and Dean needed the shiny lighter between his jaws. So with a final growl at the lady in white, he leapt back over the fence and raced across the cemetery to Dean.  
  
  
"Moose?" Dean called, surprised when he saw their dog drop the lighter on the ground. The idling engine of the Impala was still running in the distance, and he knew something had gone terribly wrong. "Shit." So he picked up the lighter and flicked it until a flame started, tossing it into the grave and only staying long enough to make damn sure it caught, before he was streaking back across the cemetery, Moose right on his heels. When he was close enough to see what happened, he almost stopped running. The lady in white was pushing Castiel further and further onto the spikes of the fence railing, and although he couldn't see how bad the damage was from here, he knew it had to be devastating by fact that Castiel's torso was almost parallel to the ground and yet he wasn't falling.  
  
  
Castiel hung on desperately to the fence, crying out behind gritted teeth as the woman in white pressed him further down on the iron spikes. Moose was gone and Castiel's weight was quickly becoming more than the angel could even handle. His toes barely touched the ground and all efforts to right himself were failing miserably. The angel swallowed and simply tried to breath. He just needed to get off the spikes, and then his grace would take care of him, wouldn't it? But he knew it wouldn't; Castiel's regenerative powers were hindered by the low amount of power, and nothing but small cuts and bruises ever seemed affected anymore and even then, they healed more slowly than they should. Castiel was going to die here, and he was going to fail everyone and everything in his life.  
  
  
The guilt was overwhelming, and Castiel let out another squeaking cry as he was shoved down as far as he could go, impaled on the fence like some kind of trophy.  
  
  
The woman in white turned to say something to Dean, but her words were lost as her bones burned and flames appeared on her spirit. As she burned up, she didn't make any grand protestations or curse them, she simply looked at Dean with a sort of sadness in her eyes, and then she was gone.  
  
  
It shook Dean, more than he cared to admit, but right now he had far more pressing matters to attend to. Easily vaulting the fence, he crouched down next to Castiel and tried to figure out how bad it was while still reassuring his lover. "Hey... this... this isn't so bad." He said, fingers already sticky and wet with hot blood as he hunted around, trying to see how many spikes were going into Cas. Three of them, but thankfully only one had made it all the way through.  
  
  
This wasn't something that he could fix with a little rum and dental floss though. Hell, this wasn't something even Bobby could have fixed back in the day. And he knew this wasn't anything Castiel could fix anymore. Which meant he'd have to call in professional, even with all the problems that would make for them, like having no real identities anymore. Or Cas, with no paperwork whatsoever. "We'll get you fixed up in no time..." he whispered as he pulled out his phone with trembling hands and dialed the number, fingers leaving ugly stains on the buttons.  
  
  
Castiel's mouth worked, as his hands slipped on his own blood, dropping himself another inch onto the spikes as a body-wide muscle spasm slammed through him. He didn't try to level himself any more, simply looked at his lover upside down, reaching out to touch Dean's cheek with a soft gasp, leaving smeared, bloody marks as he lost the strength to do more than that.  
  
  
"D-Dean," he whispered, "I--I'm sorry." He mumbled something else, but it was lost in a burble of blood and he closed his eyes, features beginning to grow softer as the pain began to ebb.  
  
  
"Hello this is the Santa B..."  
  
  
"Shut up, I've got a guy impaled on a fence at the Calvary Cemetery, alright? He uh... has at least one spike from the fence going all the way through him and... uh..." Dean replied quickly, cutting her off.  
  
  
"Alright, don't worry, we'll get an ambulance out there right away. Do you know how long he's been on there, or how it happened?" The operator asked, trying to help calm Dean down.  
  
  
"No, I... maybe a minute or two. I wasn't with him... Damn it. Cas, baby, you gotta stay with me."  
  
  
"Sir, sir, can you keep him talking with you? Don't let him go to sleep. We'll have that ambulance there in two minutes, I'm redirecting traffic now, so just keep him awake."  
  
  
"Yeah--," Dean blinked, realizing that he was crying as he leaned over the fence to help hold up Castiel's torse, taking some of the strain off his punctured abdominal muscles. "Ok, uh, Cas, baby you need to talk to me, ok? We're gonna get you right off this and then they'll heal you right up, just like new."  
  
  
Moose barked in the background, a strangely haunting sound in the silent night.  
  
  
The angel heard Dean talking as if through a dream, the words muffled and far away. He didn't know who Dean was talking to, and in this state he didn't particularly care, his fingers flexing weakly as he continued to shudder uncontrollably. It was nearly impossible for him to focus, but his attention was pulled as he heard Dean's voice call him once or twice, and felt some of the pressure on his spine alleviated by Dean's attempts to hold him.  
  
  
His mouth worked again, and he reached out, finding Dean with his fingers rather than his eyes, clutching at the jacket as if it would anchor him to this world for just a little longer. He couldn't help but use some of his grace in his addled state of mind, weakly trying to find Sam as well, wanting to apologize, wanting to be forgiven by the two he had loved so much.  
  
  
 _I'm sorry, Sam._ Was all that he could manage, floating it out to the cosmos with no idea if Sam would ever hear it.  
  
  
He wasn't hurting anymore, and that was a relief at least as he forced himself to focus, to look at Dean again. The tears surprised him, running down that roughed face of his lover's, and he wanted so badly to comfort. "I.. It.. it.. it...," he stammered, fighting to get the words out. "It doesn't hurt," he breathed, trying to reassure his lover that at least he wasn't in physical pain any longer.  
  
  
Dean almost dropped the phone as Castiel tried to reassure him, and he felt guilty and conflicted and so terribly, terribly worried. Cas couldn't die on him, not now, not like this. They were supposed to have another twenty, thirty years, easy. Cas wasn't supposed to die, gutted by a fence and a lady in white. He wanted to stroke Cas' face, but he couldn't, not with holding him up and the phone at the same time. "Baby, just stop... don't worry, they're gonna be here before you realize it. And they'll get you off this... and..." His voice faltered, and his hand at Castiel's back fisted into the trench coat. He wasn't going to lose Cas like this.  
  
  
"Sir, did he say that it isn't hurting?" the poor operator asked, not wanted to have to intrude on this personal moment, but knowing it was her job to get as much information as she could. "He might be going into shock. Do his eyes look glossy?"  
  
  
With something to do, Dean blinked his own tears away and looked into Cas' eyes. They weren't so much focused on him as gazing in his general direction. "Yeah, he, uh, don't know if he's seeing me or not."  
"He's probably in shock from blood loss."  
  
  
Then the night filled with the sound of a siren and flashing lights. The ambulance screeched to a stop besides the Impala, three paramedics came piling out. One of the men held a pair of industrial strength bolt cutters. "Sir, sir... I'm sorry but, we need you to step back so we can get him off this, alright?"  
  
  
Dean looked at them and wanted to snarl, wanted to defend Cas, but he knew he couldn't. He had to let them take over, as much as it pained him. So he placed a kiss on Cas' hand and stepped back once one of the paramedics was holding Castiel's head and shoulders from the far side of the fence.  
  
  
Castiel lost consciousness before the lights could register, and the paramedics got straight to work, cutting away the area of the fence that the man's body was impaled on. One of them  gave Dean a slightly confused look as he glanced around the scene, noting the gun and the open trunk full of all manner of occult objects, along with the light in the distance.  
  
  
Helping stabilize the unconscious man as best they could with blood everywhere and the awkward angle of impalement, he looked up at Dean accusingly. They were in a graveyard in the middle of night after all.  
"We're going to take him directly to the hospital. You're going to need to be there for paperwork," he said softly, and another glance at the Impala's trunk told Dean that if he showed, there would more than likely be police there as well. "They're going to want to know what happened."  
  
  
"You're both a little old to be playing in graveyards, don't you think?" the EMT sneered softly, his disdain evident as his co-worker tried to shush him.  
  
  
Dean hung up on the operator now that the paramedics were here, and he stiffened slightly at the man's furtive glances. Walking over he shoved the trunk closed and turned his gaze back to Castiel. "I don't give a damn what you think, just save his life, alright? Cas had... he had nothing to do with this." He would go to prison if he had to, would let them know who he was and what was on his record, all of it, so long as it kept Cas safe and got him treatment. They both stared at each other for a minute before the paramedic shook his head and went to help his coworkers get Castiel's abused body onto the gurney.  
  
  
"I'll follow in my car," he called out after them, before walking over and picking up the shotgun. Sending one last look back to the light of the burning corpse half a field away, he turned back to the Impala and got in, tossing the shotgun into the backseat. It didn't matter now anyways. He could clean up the shovels and the gasoline, but it would still be obvious what had happened, besides the fact that the ghost was now gone and they wouldn't be able to explain how Cas had ended up on the fence. Maybe they'd blame him.  
  
  
Wouldn't that just be his luck?  
  
  
So he turned on the Impala and followed the speeding ambulance, leaving the scene behind him.  
  
  
As the red tail lights of the Impala faded into the night, a figure appeared by the fence. He looked around, fingers lightly touching a droplet of blood and bringing it to his tongue. Sure enough, this was Castiel's. He sighed and walked the scene, slowly cleaning up after Dean and Cas. Once he was certain that no speck of evidence remained, he reached out and wiped the paramedics' minds, leaving them with the memory of finding Castiel skewered, but nothing about the guns or suspicious activities. Then Sam closed his eyes and rested against one of the gravestones. The first time he'd heard from Cas in years, and it was because he was dying? Why... why hadn't he asked for help? Why had he just apologized. And why wasn't he able to heal himself?  
  
  
Sam tried to remember what had happened between them on that last night, but he found it hazy, as always.  
  
  
 _Shuuuush, Sam. You don't need to worry about it too much. I'm sure whatever attacked him just knew how to fight angels._ Lucifer said, carefully lacing his words with Grace, settling Sam.  
  
  
"Yeah... you're probably right." And then they were gone, leaving no trace of their passing either.

* * *

  
It was hourslater, at the hospital that one of the Doctors came out to meet Dean, giving him a sympathetic hand shake and explaining to the man that his partner was in a very, very bad way. A list of injures was read off carefully, none of them small. A kidney had to be removed, as well as parts of Castiel's bowel, though perhaps the worst injury was the one to his spine. One of the iron bars had wedged itself between his vertebra, and had damaged much of the spinal cord.  
  
  
It was likely that Castiel would be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, if he lived at all. The risk of infection was extremely high, given what had happened, and they had spent countless hours in surgery to  try and make certain everything was as clean as it possibly could be. Full of sympathy for the man, the doctor ushered Dean back into the room they had left Castiel in to recover from surgery.  
  
  
The angel looked peaceful enough, with his eyes closed and lips parted, hooked up to multiple IV's that were certain to contain pain medication and antibiotics, but his middle was wrapped with thick layers of gauze and his bed didn't look so much like a bed as a medieval torture device to keep him in traction to assist his spinal injury. He was pale and ashen, weatherworn and gaunt and tiny.  
  
  
The doctor had a chair brought in for Dean, so that he could wait for the anethesia to wear off, and patted his shoulder gently before closing the door behind himself.  
  
  
It was another two hours before Castiel stirred, eyelids fluttering as he began to regain consciousness.  
  
  
"I just... This is bull crap, Dean said quietly, looking off through the window, looking not to Heaven but somewhere on Earth. "Look, I get that you don't care about us, but you can't take Cas from me, you can't. You already took my parents, you took Sam... I can't... You can't take Cas, do you hear me?" His hand balled into a fist, but he just lightly tapped it against the glass, laying it against the cool surface.  
"You just can't."  
  
  
Sighing, he turned away from the bleak view of the largely deserted hospital parking lot and looked back at Cas.  
  
  
Why did life keep taking everything from him? Hadn't he given enough yet? He'd saved the whole damn world, so why couldn't it just leave him be with his tiny little corner of happiness. It wasn't like he was asking for all that much, was it?  
  
  
As he walked back to his chair however, he noticed the gentle fluttering of eyelids and he moved to Castiel's side, careful not to touch or bump anything. "Cas? Cas, you with me?"  
  
  
At his lover's voice, consciousness flooded the angel, and Castiel tried immediately to sit up, only to find that he could not, bound as he was. His eyes opened, wide and blue, full of pain and fear as the angel gave a soft groan before he relaxed, looking up at his lover's expression. He knew he was in a hospital, in a bed, he knew from experience. It was nothing new, except for the physical pain.  
  
  
The look in Dean's eyes, worn and tired, filled the angel with dread, and he licked his cracking lips, hating the dry, parched feeling of his throat. He was sore, so sore, everywhere, especially his middle. Well almost everywhere, his bottom half seemed almost like it wasn't there.  
  
  
"Dean," he breathed, not remembering much at all. "You're alright." His voice was hoarse and raspier than usual from being intubated during surgery. He let some of the relief he felt for that small miracle show, flexing his fingers in a half-attempt at a reach, and then took another breath.  
  
  
He really hadn't expected to wake up at all, yet here he was, again.  
  
  
Dean stared at those eyes for a long time, so thankful that they'd opened again. "Dammit, Cas, don't... don't you..." He reached forward and carefully cupped Cas' face, his thumb stroking over the cheek that he knew so well. "Don't you ever worry me like that again. I didn't think... you'd come back to me." Letting out a deep breath he leaned forward and kissed Cas' forehead, lips lingering for a long moment.  
The angel furrowed his brows, leaning his cheek into the hand extended to it, wishing he could take it up with his own. His lips parted in an instinctive urge to say "Yes, of course I would, I always will," but he never got the words out. He couldn't say it, not when he'd been so close to death yet again. He closed his eyes for a long moment as Dean kissed his forehead and then took another slowly breath, trying to take stock of the situation.  
  
  
"Now uh, do you need some water or anything? I can call a nurse in or... I don't know." Rambling as he stood back up, he looked around for the pitcher of water, needing something to focus on besides how relieved he was that Cas was awake.  
  
  
His history with hospitals left him feeling antsy and high strung.  
  
  
"I... Yes, water would be good." he nodded agreeing easily.  
  
  
"What is this Dean?" he asked softly, looking at the contraption that cradled him as best he could. "I know this is a hospital, but this isn't a normal bed." he croaked.  
  
  
Dean didn't look back at Cas as he poured the water, trying to keep his hands from shaking. "That's a traction bed. It's gonna hold everything in place while the docs have your spine healing up. Apparently you let yourself get beat around by a girl, so, ya know, you kinda deserve it." He tried to make it into a joke.  
  
  
It fell flat.  
  
  
Coming back with the water, he place a straw into it and held it so that Cas could suck at his own pace. "The, uh, the posts of the fence really did a number on you. So you'll be in this for a while. They think you won't be able to walk again." And damn did it hurt to say that. He still held out hope that Cas could heal himself, but he'd seen how Cas' Grace had gotten less and less each year, the types of things he could use it for were barely any better than healing paper cuts and bruises.  
  
  
"And don't drink too fast." Really the doctor had told Dean to have Cas suck on an ice cube, but he couldn't imagine that would feel better than regular water.  
  
  
Opening his mouth to sip at the offered liquid and almost spitting it out as nausea slid through him, he looked back up just in time to hear Dean mention something about not being able to walk again. His brows came together hard and fast, and the angel shook his head, trying to immediately sit up. That wasn't an option, and they both knew it. Dean was a hunter, and Castiel was a hunter too now. Fear bloomed hot and hard, and he grunted in frustration, terrified of what the consequences would be if he could not rise from the bed and walk away.  
  
  
Would Dean leave him then? To continue hunting? Castiel wouldn't be able to follow, he wouldn't be able to protect. Dean wouldn't want a useless partner, and if he couldn't hunt, if he couldn't love... what good could he possibly be.  
  
  
Naked fear was in his eyes as he willed himself to get up, to show Dean he was fine, that he was still useful, and it turned to frustration as the angel got no response.  
  
  
He couldn't care less about drinking the water now. "Please, don't leave," he blurted out plaintively, begging for mercy from the only one remaining in his life that had ever shown him any.  
  
  
Dean looked down at Cas' outburst and set the water aside, sitting himself on the edge of the bed so he could pick up one of Castiel's hands, mindful of the IV. "Hey, no, no Cas. Don't even worry about that. I'm not goin' anywhere. Ok?" Looking at Cas, he felt that he might just understand the cold terror he saw there. "You listen to me, Cas. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to leave you if you can't walk. I... I realized... I don't wanna lose you, I can't lose you. I was almost cheated out of twenty, thirty years with you, Cas, and I can't let that happen."  
  
  
"Besides, it's not like I'm getting any younger. So maybe this," he let his eyes travel down the length of Cas' body, forcing himself to look at the still legs, "was a blessing. A wake up call to make me stop hunting."  
Hunting had always been his life, and he had been so sure it'd be his death too. It already had been several times, if he was honest. But somewhere along the way it was Cas who became his life, and he couldn't lose that.  
  
  
"So don't you worry. I'll be like Bobby, open a salvage yard or something. And we'll have Moose guard all the cars," he said, trying so hard to help Cas see that he didn't blame him and he wasn't going to leave him now, not after everything they'd been through.  
  
  
The brunette looked up at his greying blonde, eyes still wide and terrified, almost tearful, until Dean took his hand. He clutched at it desperately, nails nearly biting as he held on, as if he could stop Dean from walking away, his chest rising and falling in panicked pants as his heart rate monitor started beeping in warning. It wasn't until Dean began to explain that he calmed slightly, his breathing coming back under control as he was assured his lover wasn't going to go anywhere.  
  
  
"It's not a blessing, Dean," he said softly, though the thought of Dean quitting hunting was appealing to the angel, but they would never be free to live and love as he had wanted them to without the use of his legs. He felt robbed of almost everything. How much more would be taken from him during these last years?  
  
  
"You love hunting. And if I can't walk--," he closed his eyes tightly and trembled. "Can I... Can I even be with you?" He honestly didn't know, but he suspected the answer was something he didn't want to hear. He'd ruined everything somehow, again. Their lives. Dean's retirement. His own body.  
  
  
He closed his eyes, biting his bottom lip hard. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Dean," he whispered softly, trying once more to rise, even though he shouldn't. "I... I'll find a way to... fix it. Somehow."  
  
  
"Cas, Cas it's ok. I don't care, we'll find a way to make this work. We always have," Dean replied quickly, trying to calm Cas down. "You really think I'm so shallow that I'd care if we couldn't have sex any more? Huh? No, now come on Cas, you know I'm not. And yes, I love hunting, but only because it's the only life I've ever really known. And if I do what Bobby did, reach out, help other hunters, then I don't have to give it up entirely."  
  
  
"You have never, and will never, be a burden to me. So stop thinking that you've ruined anything by getting hurt."  
  
  
He was going to say more, but at the sound of the door opening he turned his head to see the doctor walk in.  
  
  
Castiel had never heard such heartfelt words come out of Dean's mouth, and it took him a few long moments to truly believe  that Dean was telling the truth. He didn't doubt Dean's sincerity, he'd been too frightened imagining all the terrifying possibilities. His fingers flexed, only growing tighter, as the the angel regarded his lover, cursing himself and wishing he could reach Dean's mouth.  
Calming himself a little more easily, and he swallowed and closed his eyes and swallowed back the rest of his fears as the door opened and a doctor revealed himself.  
  
  
"Ah, good, glad to see you're awake," the doctor looked down at his chart, "Castiel, is it?"  
  
  
"Yes. My name is Castiel."  
  
  
Dean squeezed Castiel's hand, letting him know he wasn't going anywhere.  
  
  
"Ah, interesting. Can't say I've heard the name before," the doctor said, looking at the men with a quiet gentleness in his eyes. "I have some good news for you two. It would appear that all of your bills have been paid in full, all the way up until you leave." He seemed quite happy to be able to say that, as the procedures for Castiel's recovery had been, and would continue to be, no easy or inexpensive thing.  
"Wait... what?" Dean could quite believe it. Who in the world would have done that, or had the money to do that, for them?  
  
  
"The donor wished to remain anonymous. It's not all that uncommon at our hospital, as many of the people who come in are not able to pay themselves. The community has really gathered together to try and make this hospital one of the best in the county for not having to deny patients.  
  
  
Castiel furrowed his brows in confusion, and then looked up at Dean before tipping his head back at the doctor. He and Dean hadn't ever rolled in money, but he knew that medical care was one of the most expensive things in this particular country and he and Dean certainly wouldn't have enough to pay for almost any of it, even with a hundred credit cards and a hundred different names.  
  
  
He was as baffled as Dean was, and it showed. "Who would even know about this? Was it reported in the paper?" he asked softly, knowing that strange occurrences sometimes made headlines. "How could someone afford it? They don't even know how long I will have to be here." he said, incredulously, licking his bottom lip.  
  
  
"I was told that the man simply walked in and asked what people were having the most expensive operations with the highest 'risk factor', meaning that we doubt they'd be able to pay. And your name was right around the top of the list. He signed and took care of everything. As I said, the community around here is really quite giving. It's a heartening thing to see," the doctor explained, obviously quite affected by this.  
Dean still wasn't sure what he thought about that, but at least that took a great deal of worrying off his plate. "Well... wow. That's really somethin' else."  
  
  
He looked back to Cas and smiled, a quiet, content smile. "See, things'll work out."  
  
  
Castiel simply couldn't understand, and it showed in his eyes as he listened to the story, furrowing his brows. He'd lost so much faith in the kindness of humans over the years that he'd begun to think, only sometimes, that Lucifer was right, a purge might be needed. It was something he had never given voice too, but now he felt guilt for it, and for everything else he'd agreed to do to the flawed but beautiful race.  
A miracle had finally happened for the angel and his lover, and the ironic thing was that it wasn't from a God who no longer gave his once-cherished creations a second glance. It had come from a mortal, a human who had simply wanted to do another of his fellows kindness, and gave what he could to make it happen.  
  
  
Tears streaked down Castiel's cheeks before he could stop them, the forgotten angel was so overwhelmed,  and his hand clenched around Dean's as he choked out softly. "Please.. I.. If you ever know who he is.. Please.. Thank him."  
  
  
The angel was humbled beyond any ability to get anything more out.  
  
  
The doctor looked between the two men and smiled sadly, "It would be my pleasure. I'll see if he can't be reached some way." Having said his piece, he nodded to the two of them and walked out, back through the halls, and to his office where Sam had been waiting.  
  
  
"Well?"  
  
  
"He'll make it through. Might never walk again, but you never know with angels." Black eyes blinked as the doctor looked at him, taking off his coat and hanging it over the back of his chair. "I told them their bills were paid for and the angel up and started crying. And while I was eavesdropping, heard them say they're gonna stop hunting, so... it's not all bad."  
  
  
Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "Thank you."  
  
  
"Any other orders, Sir?"  
  
  
"Just watch over them and make sure he's given the best treatment available. I'm fairly certain you know I'm good for the bill," Sam said, a bit of Lucifer's sneering confidence coming through.  
  
  
"Of course sir. Of course." The demon responded, more than a little worried that his Lord might find some reason to change his mind about leaving the area peacefully. But his fears were unfounded as Sam suddenly vanished. Now he just had to make sure that bloody angel didn't get harmed while under his care. Joy...


	20. The Long Rode Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Dean find a way to make a life with each other.

Castiel sighed softly and shifted in the impala's front seat, giving a small smile as Moose tucked his head between the two of them and gave them both a lick, wagging his tail excitedly. This was it, the day Castiel got to see their new home, where he and his hunter would settle down for the rest of their lives. The windows were open, letting the breeze roll through, warm and dry, and the sky was as clear as Castiel had ever seen it, and he had had thousands of years to see any number of weather conditions. He'd spent nearly a month in the hospital recovering from his injuries, and while he was still recovering, he was out of the danger-zone  

He'd been given a strict regimen of vitamins and medications and a list of exercises that needed to be performed every day to stay strong.

Still, he was happy. It was hard not to on a day like this.

Smiling and humming along to the cassette Dean had in the player at the moment - he knew them all by heart now - he turned to pet Moose quietly, simply taking a moment to watch his lover quietly, a gentle smile on his face.

"Will we be there soon?"

Dean smiled as he kept his gaze fixed ahead, mile markers on the side of the road passing in endless progression as they made the drive from the hospital in Santa Barbara out to the small, family owned Garage that he'd bought in Carrizozo, New Mexico. The place had a big yard and a one story house and the clearest night skies Dean had ever seen. It certainly wasn't a big town, but it had it's own little airport that brought in some traffic and the sort of small town USA feel that Dean had grown up with. In short, it felt as close to home as the hunter could find, besides a burned down house in Lawrence and the front seat of the Impala.

"Just within city limits now," he replied as he pulled off the highway, turning down the music slightly now that they were off the open road. As they drove through the small town, Dean pointed out some of the things he'd noticed when he'd visited last week, a bakery, the small park, a dog grooming shop, simple things. Then they pulled down the long gravel driveway that led to the house, seeing as the Garage was in front, just off the main road. As he parked in front of their new home, he clapped Cas on the shoulder and then went to grab the wheelchair from the trunk of the Impala, which no longer held guns and knives, bags of salt and holy water. There simply hadn't been room for both in their lives.

Castiel smiled again, lovingly, not thinking at all about the fact that he could no longer walk, sitting on a porch with Dean, under endless skies like this would be more more than enough to last him for the rest of his life, and he could hope that it was the same for Dean. He glanced at the dust their passing kicked in the side mirrors, and chuckled as Moose wiggled his head out of the cracked back window.

Dean had been true to his word, As soon as he'd realized that Castiel was going to live, he'd took a few days to search out a home for them. He'd found one, and he'd come back with all the tools cleaned out of the impala, ready to love Castiel and put days of active hunting behind him. They'd already agreed that he couldn't give it up completely, but had begun to let other hunters know that Dean could be relied on for information and help, if not another set of hands.

"Alright, ready Cas?" With a well practiced maneuver, Dean lifted Cas out of the front seat of the Impala and into the wheelchair, proudly pointing out the wheelchair ramp he'd had installed on the afternoon he'd come up to buy the place. It had been owned by the bank for several years, so the cost had been manageable with even their negligible income. "Well, what do you think?"

"I think It's perfect, Dean," he murmured, tipping his head back to look at Dean upside down.

Castiel smiled again and kissed Dean back, sitting quietly as his legs were adjusted gently on the wheelchair. It constantly amazing him how gentle Dean was with him, careful to position just so. Castiel's hands flexed as Moose bounced excitedly, trotting about and wagging his tail, snapping at imaginary bugs in the air. He followed, however when his pack members trotted up the ramp and followed them, quickly peeling off to go explore every corner and inch of the house.

The angel watch Moose disappear into the back rooms as he looked around himself, entranced by the quaint place that was, for all intents and purposes, what he might consider a nest.

"What do you think?"

"I think I have to give you the grand tour," Dean replied as he bent forward and kissed Castiel. Walking around to the front, he pulled down the feet rests and placed Castiel's lame legs onto them, paying particular attention to them. He was certainly saddened by Castiel's injuries, but he'd made a promise to himself that he was going to love his angel just as much now as he had before, and if that meant coming to love these legs that could no longer work, so be it. He stood back up and started gently pushing Cas up the ramp and into the house. There were no stairs for them to worry about, and he'd made certain that all the doorways were wide enough and none of the cupboards were too terribly high.

"But I like the place when I got it, so we already know I'm happy with it. You're the one who hasn't seen it yet," he lightly groused.

The rooms were simply painted, colors of the desert and the endless sky, bright and inviting. As he got to the kitchen, he pointed out the fact that one of the old biddies in town had told him that the oven was simply perfect for pies, and gave Cas a significant glance. He figured that if Cas couldn't find anything else to do, baking him pies was probably something within his reach. Then he took him back outside and showed him around the Garage, which had a proper car lift, and quite a nice stock of supplies.

He could not contain his chuckle as Dean earnestly hinted about pies. Castiel had already learned to bake a few, he could certainly learn to bake them all. "I'll make your favorite, and every one that isn't your favorite," he promised softly.

"Want to go see the park?" Dean asked, figuring that the walk would do them both good after being cramped in the car for hours, and he knew that Cas needed to build up biceps and triceps now.

"Yes. I do," Castiel's smile was genuine, if tired, as he nodded. "And then on the way ... home... we can stop and get some baking supplies and some beer?" Pie and beer sounded like a perfect way for them to celebrate the first night of the rest of their lives.

Dean nodded and took off his over shirt, the weather warmer than he was normally accustomed to after spending the past month in the air conditioned hospital with Cas. He pushed Cas over the gravel until they were out onto the sidewalk, and then he stepped around and walked along at Castiel's slower pace. Hands in his pockets, he enjoyed the leisurely pace, his eyes still hunting out possible threats instinctually, and he sighed lightly. It would certainly be strange adjusting to this life, but he knew it was getting to be time as each morning he woke up with a persistent ache in his back from an injury he'd gotten years before. His life of hunting had done him no favors there.

The walk wasn't long, and he nodded to other passersby, trying to think of them as neighbors and not just witnesses or possible suspects. He briefly wondered if this was what cops or soldiers felt like after finally retiring.

Moose nudged his muzzle into Dean's hand and whined until Dean gave him a few pats and ruffled his ears. "Don't worry, Moose, I'm fine." A slow smile spread across his face as he looked at Cas, trying so hard, always trying so hard. If Cas could make this work, then so could he. "Just fine..."

Taking over when Dean let him, the angel pushed himself unsteadily along the sidewalk. He'd only pushed himself a few times before this, and though it was easy enough, to someone who had just gotten out of the hospital after weeks of bedrest it was certainly a task.

While Dean nodded to the passersby though, Castiel constantly turned his gaze away. While most might think it shame of his circumstances, it was truly guilt, wondering how many of these people he would kill with his own hands in a few decades' time.

He smiled at Moose, and he smiled at Dean, as they made their way to the park, a place he knew he would would spend many of his days in the future.

* * *

Work had slowly picked up through that first winter, with the quiet town slowly spreading Dean's reputation as a miracle mechanic through the whole county, and then through half of the state. Word of mouth apparently was very much alive in these parts. Hunters also started picking up the news that Dean Winchester was retired, but could be reached for advice and the occasional helping hand on cases in the area. So when there were no cars in the Garage or fixers out in the lot, then Dean would check the phones or spend days out with Cas and Moose at the park.

He'd kept himself in shape, going on runs and eating smarter, and he couldn't help the old pain whenever he realized how proud Sam would have been with him or the fact that Sam would have been happy to be running right alongside of him. However in Sam's stead he had Moose, generally keeping the runs to the predawn before the heat set in and Cas came down from bed. With his failing Grace, Cas slept more than Dean, but all things considered, it was a good life.

So it was that Dean found himself working under a hunter's car a little over a year later, trying to stretch another fifty thousand miles out of the already abused transmission. "I'm telling you Moose, if they just thought to clean their cars once in awhile, oil change, wheel rotation... Wouldn't have half of these problems with a little TLC." He muttered as he worked, a common habit of his.

Trying to loosen one of the the nuts, his wrench slipped off for the third time and whacked him squarely between the eyes. "DAMMIT."

"Moose... let's try the 5/16th, this one isn't working." He dropped the wrench out by the side of the car and held his hand expectantly, knowing that Moose was smart enough to know which one he wanted.

Though the dog had learned, with Castiel's grace and Dean's training almost everything that they could want of him, it wasn't the dog who put the asked for item in Dean's hand.

* * *

Even with the Grace fading, it had still worked on Castiel's injuries, little by little, repairing one nerve, one broken vessel at a time, bit by bit. It was this morning, that the grace had finished repairing the nerve in Castiel's spine, the one that had rendered the angel's legs useless.

Castiel had first noticed when he'd woken that morning. Dean had been out, and the angel had stretched, then paused realizing something very odd. He could feel his toes. A tentative glance down and wiggle had rendered him speechless and gaping, but he hadn't said anything when Dean had come back and helped him into his wheelchair. As soon as his lover had gone to the garage though, the angel had dragged himself up, although a bit shakily, and found that he could stand, he could balance, he could walk again. It had taken half an hour of pacing for him to get his natural gait back, pacing from one side of the room to other, before he truly believed it, and grew absolutely ecstatic with his findings. Things that he had thought lost to him were his once more, and after a small happy breakdown, the Seraph had gone into their bedroom and fished out his trench coat, which he had missed, despite himself. Heat didn't bother the angel one bit. He'd pulled it over his sleeping shorts and tank-top without bothering about real clothes.

And when he'd strolled down to the garage, heard that voice, and seen Moose sitting patiently at the side, he'd put his finger to his lips and gave the hand signal for 'down'. Moose obeyed without question, wagging his tail as Castiel silently tiptoed over to toolbox on his dusty bare feet and fished out the wrench Dean had asked for.

This he put in his lover's outstretched hand, making sure to brush his fingertips along Dean's palm, before straightening and rocking back on his heels, tucking his hands in his pockets with the biggest smile he could remember plastered across his face.

"Thanks." Dean replied, moving to make use of the new wrench. It took him a full thirty second before he realized that hadn't been Moose. He looked over and saw a pair of bare feet. "Who's there?" Pushing his creeper out from under the car, he sat up and had to wait a moment for his eyes to readjust for the light. Blinking and holding up a hand against the glare of the sun, he saw, "Cas?"

Castiel counted off each moment after Dean's thank's, running his tongue along his teeth, content to wait just as long as he needed to for Dean to realize that a dog with a wet nose hadn't dropped a slobbery tool in his palm. He shuffled back a few steps as Dean rolled out, hands still tucked in his pockets, on of the cheekiest grins he had every mustered still glued onto his face.

Dean pinched himself on the forearm as he stood up, wincing slightly when it hurt. "No... I have to be dreaming but... Cas. You're, you're standing?" He saw how sure on his feet the angel looked, and he couldn't help the smile that broke across his face as he ran to Cas, throwing arms around him, hauling him up, and spinning him in circles. When they nearly tumbled into the car, he set Cas back down and stared, one arm still holding them together. "How the hell did you pull this off, babe?"

"I didn't. I think my grace is still healing me, Dean. Slowly, but it's still working."

He dropped down and felt the legs, surprised to find them nowhere as atrophied as they should have been after not walking on them for so long. Looking back up at Cas, he ran a hand down his thigh, just to be sure that he could in fact feel everything, that he was no longer paralysed. This was, well, this was a bloody miracle. Standing back up he pulled Cas into his arms and kissed him, long and deep, celebrating with Cas that he'd gotten his mobility back, that he could walk, that they'd finally had something good happen.

He shivered, curling his toes as Dean ran a hand down his leg, giving a soft sigh of content as his lover rose and wrapped him again in strong, loving arms. He returned the kiss with passion, reaching up to grip Dean's jawline, shivering happily as he rose up on his toes.   

Moose was up now, bounding about and barking happily, tail wagging as he bounced back in circles around them, joining the celebration in his own way.

Castiel smiled and rubbed his cheek against his Dean's chest. "I get to drive the Impala to the store next time."

"You could drive her halfway across the state if you wanted to Cas," Dean said with a halfway manic laugh, too much joy trying to bubble out of him at once. "And your Grace, huh... well I'll be damned. That's amazing Cas."

Words couldn't properly encapsulate Dean's feelings over this, his joy, relief, incredulity, all of it.

"We need to celebrate. Do we have any whiskey on hand? Oh screw it, we should just walk in to get some, just for hell of it, watch everyone stare at my man and his working legs."

Castiel beamed, giving a great smile and pulling Dean closer, against him, amazing to be able to feel him, all of him again. If Lucifer had never taken his grace, this wouldn't have even been an issue in the first place, but with the way their lives had been going, it was a welcome gift that they both could enjoy and celebrate. Castiel hadn't expected it, and it had come as a shock, but one of the best shocks of his life. Funny how being mortal made one appreciate the little things.

He nodded, grinning widely, for by now everyone in the town knew who they were and knew that the man in the wheelchair had broken his back. Many also knew that Castiel and Dean were together, and while there were some whispers about that from less approving neighbors, most people left them to themselves. Dean did good work, and they didn't bother anyone, so mostly they were left well enough alone.

"I think a walk would be nice. What would we tell them, though?" he asked, dropping his hands down to take Dean's and squeezing the fingers.

"Just what happened, a freakin' miracle. Must of been your back was only severely bruised, or sprained or something like that. But mainly, we just tell 'em to celebrate with us," Dean answered, leaning in to pepper Castiel's face with light kisses. It wasn't that he had loved Cas any less without the use of his legs, it was just a blessing that he'd never hoped to ask for. And he couldn't say that he wouldn't be glad to have Cas up and walking again. Maybe he'd even convince him out on his morning runs.

Turning, he slapped his thigh, and Moose was by his side in a minute, looking between him and Castiel, tail thumping in excitement. "Ready to go for a walk, Moose?"

He nodded his head and ran a circle around them, displaying that he was ready to go now and they were taking too long.

Dean laughed and laced his fingers with Cas'. "After you," he said with a smirk, motioning out of the Garage, still holding one of Castiel's hands intertwined with his.   

* * *

Many happy, reasonably healthy years passed for the pair, and though sometimes they got on each others nerves, or sometimes insecurities drove them apart for short amounts of time, they always came back together, apologized and loved one another harder for it. Twenty years came and went, and the seasons changed and time marched on. At the age of seventeen, when Dean was fifty-six, Moose passed peacefully in his sleep, curled up between the pair of them in their bed, warm and loved and as happy as he could be. Castiel had smiled through his own sadness. They had given him a hunter's burial.

That had been ten years ago to the day, and Castiel and Dean had taken a walk to the park to sit on the bench and remember the faithful dog, who might as well have been their son. They did it every year, just as they did on the anniversery of Sam's death. The bees were busy already, it was early in the spring and flowers were blooming in the well tended park, and Castiel sat shoulder to shoulder with his partner, as close as ever, knee to knee, thigh to thigh, watching the insects buzz back and forth like the busybodies they were.

           Dean's hair had gone completely white by then, but was still thick at the age of sixty-six, his green eyes deep set but much wiser than they had been in his youth. It saddened Castiel to see his lover changed so by time. The age where they had made love to one other regularly had come and gone, but that had no bearing on just how much the angel cared for his charge. He didn't need sex, he never really had, and was perfectly content to love Dean with physical gratification. Castiel was content.

"Remember when he caught that bee in his mouth?" he piped up, his age still unchanged, his hair still dark, without a speck of grey. "And the whole hive went after him?" He chuckled and looked up at Dean quietly. "And he hid under Baby the whole day. You asked him why he could hunt ghosts and vampires, but was afraid of a few beestings."

Dean sat in contented silence, enjoying the warm spring sunlight as it filtered down through one of the few trees that ever fared well in the sandy park. He reached over and took Castiel's hand at the angel's recollections of Moose, giving it a light squeeze, before leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees. "Yeah. He never did do well with stingers. I kept trying to tell him that their stings wouldn't be able to affect him much through his thick fur, but he wouldn't listen. Maybe you should have done the talking." He sighed and shook his head, happy for the memories.

"I tried. It didn't work. He was as stubborn as you," Castiel replied with a chuckle, before straightening.

"You know, we've probably got enough saved up for me to close down the Garage, just keep it on to work on our already impressive fleet of cars," he mentioned offhandedly.

At one point business had been so busy that Dean had taken on an assistant, but that had only lasted for a few years before the young man, with blessings from them both, had gone on to start his own Garage several states away, glad to finally be leaving the endless skies and sand behind him, feeling a young man's wanderlust. Dean had been sorry to see the kid go, as he'd always worked hard and had a real appreciation for the cars he repaired, but he figured that's how life went, things constantly moved and changed.

There were days when he still got the urge to just up and go somewhere, and on those days he rolled over and held Castiel a little tighter until it passed. Some days they'd go for a drive, just for the sake of having the windows down and Metallica blasting like they were thirty again and had nothing to lose. Some days he still wished he'd died hunting, when he woke up and his joints were sore and he remembered that nearly everyone he loved was dead and gone. He hugged Castiel even tighter on those days.

"Yeah... being under those cars all day is wreakin' havoc on my back."

His brows raised slightly Dean mentioned retiring altogether, and the angel gave another tiny smile. They had saved a fair amount of money, making it all with hard work and dedication. Castiel had taken on a job years ago at the local bakery and had worked for a while before he realized people were beginning to notice he hadn't aged. He'd quit then, and kept mostly to himself, spoiling his lover with all kinds of sweets in his golden years, though Dean's favorite had never changed from pie.

He'd forgotten the last time they used a card that belonged rightfully to anyone but Dean. He reached out and ran a hand down the line of Dean's back, sending just a thin tendril of grace to ease the ache as much as he could before tucking his chin on Dean's shoulder for a moment and then giving a nod.

"If that's what you want, you know I will support you."

Footsteps approached from behind them, and Castiel straightened up, turning to look at a pretty young woman who couldn't be older than her late twenties. Blonde hair and blue-eyes, she gave him a sort of shy smile which he returned with a questioning look.

"May I help you?" he asked kindly enough, not rising from his spot on the bench.

Fidgeting for a moment, the woman finally spoke after gathering the courage to speak. "Yes, actually. I hope you're both having a good day. My name's Kelly." She started, nodding at Dean. "But I just wanted to say I've seen you around a few times, and I think it's sweet how much time you spend with your father. It's really nice to see a man with such strong family ties."

The angel blinked, obviously baffled as he glanced at Dean. Before he could answer, she continued. "I was just wondering if you'd like to get dinner sometime, maybe?"

Dean didn't bother sitting up straight as the young thing addressed Castiel, although he did cant his head to the side and listened with some interest. Perhaps he'd had more practice or more inclination once, but he could tell almost immediately that the girl was interested in Cas, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. However his soft chuckling stopped when she said that she thought Dean was Castiel's father. He was not old enough to be the angel's father... Well, alright, so visually yes, but he was sitting next to an angel who had seen the birth of the human race, and this little bimbo thought she had a chance with him? With his Castiel?

He sat up straight and wrapped a gentle hand around Castiel's shoulder, and looked at the young woman. "I'm terribly sorry, Miss, but my boy's already promised to walk me back, but if you want to break an old man's heart and deprive him of the only joy left in his life, then by all means..."

It would have simply been strange if he'd just stuck his tongue down Castiel's throat as he once had, but he had a feeling this would work just as well, and the death glare he was sending her couldn't hurt.

And of course he wouldn't admit it here, in front of the whole world to see, but her words had done a number to his pride. He knew, of course, that he was aging while Castiel wasn't, but it wasn't something that you wanted brought back up and thrown in your face. He'd liked to think he'd aged rather well, like a fine wine. A really, freakin' good wine, that you served with a classy dinner and looked great in suits.

Castiel had simply been flabbergasted, not knowing at all how to respond to the question or the insinuations. Dean reacted more quickly and the hand on his shoulder surprised him, but the words surprised him more. His lips parted as he looked at Dean, and the young woman did as well, blinking at the way she was being looked at.

"Oh... Okay.. I didn't.. mean right now, just sometime..." she trailing off, shifting to hold out a small note. Castiel took it simply because he didn't know what else to do and looked down at it. It was her name and number written in a delicate script. The angel looked back up, still completely lost.

"Um.. give me a call if you'd like to sometime," Kelly finished awkwardly, and with another glance at the angry old man who still had his hand on the handsome brunette's shoulder she turned and moved away quickly.

Castiel blinked rapidly and turned back to Dean, lips parted. "Why didn't you tell her we were together?" he asked, furrowing his brows and stuffing the paper into his pant's pocket.

Dean let his hand travel down from Castiel's shoulder to his hand, laying his gently over Castiel's. "Because... this was a little kinder way to get her to go away. I mean, you do look like you're young enough to be my son." People had always had a time with them being gay, but now for Castiel who still looked so young to be together with his aging lover would look like some strange gold digger relationship. "And maybe I didn't want her to hear that and laugh or think you were some geriphile," he admitted with a sad smile, squeezing Castiel's hand again.

And just like that, the park wasn't where he wanted to be any longer. He wanted to be in the middle of his garage, elbows deep into an engine, or in their kitchen, enjoying a fresh slice of pie and Castiel's company. Really, there wasn't much that Dean wanted, not much at all.

"So don't you dare think I said that because I'd rather be your father. And don't go looking at others, eh?" He moved in and placed a gentle kiss on Cas' lips, feeling that he should reassure him somehow, reassure himself. After all, there were more than a few days when he looked at himself in the mirror and wondered what Cas could still see in this old, tired body of his. Sure, he wasn't decrepit, but he also wasn't the strapping buck he once was. Which only served to illustrate how damned lucky he was to have Castiel by his side.

Castiel furrowed his brows and turned his hand to wrap his fingers around Dean's squeezing lightly, confusion still in his eyes. He looked down, not wanting to disagree, but there was some truth to it. "I don't care if she might have laughed," he said, pausing as he looking back up at Dean. "I'm with you. I will always be with you. I don't care what other people think, Dean. I love you. I won't look at anyone else. I haven't since you asked me not to. I will not, I swear," he whispered into Dean's lips, reaching up to grip him by the nape and running his hand through the white locks.

"I don't care about what you look like or how old you look, Dean. Don't you understand that by now?" he asked, his voice a whisper on the wind. "You're still Dean. You're still mine, and I'm still yours."

"What anyone else thinks doesn't matter. It will never matter."

Dean sighed and pulled Cas in, holding him close. "I know... I just... worry sometimes. I don't know what you've ever seen in me, Cas, but I'm so glad that you did. I really am." He still didn't care for chick flick moments, but every once in a while, well, it was alright to indulge with Cas. "I've always been a vain creature, guess gettin' old is just a blow to my pride, so I forget you don't care about my looks." Having said his piece, holding Cas tight like this, he felt better. The world and their assumptions could go screw themselves right in the face.

Pulling back far enough to look into those vibrant eyes that he never failed to drown in, he smirked and added, "Now how about you walk this old man home so we can put on a movie and completely ignore it?"

He had one good thing to say about being insulted about his age, it made him terribly defensive, just itching to prove them all wrong. Sure, they'd probably just end up making out on the couch before Cas would bring over warm pie, but if that didn't sound like Heaven, Dean honestly couldn't say what did.

* * *

           Castiel looked up at the clock on the wall for the hundredth time that day, blue eyes gathering the time, as he cut a warm slice from the pie he'd just finished baking. The lump in his throat hadn't gone away all day, and the angel, even with his tattered, faded grace, knew this was the day he had dreaded for so long. They'd had over two happy decades together, just shy of three, and had lived and loved each other every day. Dean was sixty eight now, and years of drinking had taken their toll on his health.

The sun was just beginning to set, and Castiel knew that it's full glory would be visible from the large window in their bedroom. It was beautiful already, throwing shades of twilight and fire throughout their house. Castiel might have been reminded of the purging to come soon, but he had other things on his mind this day.

Adding a scoop of vanilla ice cream to the pie and taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes as he reached under the kitchen counter and found a bottle of Dean's favorite whiskey. He trembled as he peeled it open. They both had known this time was coming, but Castiel wished he could face it with a braver mask. His job wasn't done and wouldn't be until after his hunter's body grew cold and stiff.  

That wouldn't come for a few hours more, at least.

He wondered how many humans across the board this night held their loved ones. God, he wished every single one of them had the chance to.

Bare feet were silent as the angel carried the plate and the bottle into their bedroom, and he wasted no time in setting the items on the nightstand in front of Dean before crawling into bed with him, sitting as close as skin and clothes would allow. Castiel's eyes were unusually sad as he kissed Dean's temple and rubbed his shoulder gently.

"Dean, wake up. I've brought your favorites," he whispered, trying not to let his voice choke him as he squeezed Dean's shoulder. Castiel had laid his claim on Dean's soul early this morning, drawing all his remaining Grace in a little ball to facilitate his using it. No Reaper would take his lover. Not this one. The angel would do it himself. He had to. He'd promised.

Dean had known his death was coming, if not because of the slight sadness in Castiel's eyes and that extra few seconds he hugged him each time they embraced, then because he was tired, so very, very tired. It was a weariness that came from deep inside his soul, and as much as he had dreaded this day, now that it was finally here he lay in his bed feeling content. He'd lived a damn good life, had a lover who he'd been faithful to, had family waiting for him, had never not helped when he could, and most of all, he wasn't dying alone somewhere in a pool of his own blood.

There was a time when he thought he wanted that, but now he knew better.

So when he was roused from a slumber that he knew couldn't be far off from his last, he smiled gently at the kiss on his temple and the angel in his bed. He was too tired to sit up, but he rolled over onto his back and inclined himself a little against the pillows and the headrest. "Hey, babe." Looking down at the pie and the drink that had ruined his liver, he smile and laughed, quiet but full. They both knew his time was coming, and neither of them cared much, because they were together and that was more than either of them had dared to hope for. "That you did." But he wasn't looking at the food as he reached out and drew Castiel in against him, holding the angel against his chest. "You brought my very favorite..."

Castiel's eyes shimmered as he was drawn closer, and he curled up against his charge with a soft smile and long sigh. It would do him no good to cry. He had asked for this, and gotten it, the only thing he'd ever asked for from his brother. He'd given Castiel nearly thirty years with Dean and had guaranteed that Castiel could make sure to get Dean to Heaven. But he did cry, even though he smiled, his tears silent as he kissed Dean's shoulder gently and then buried his face in the crook of his neck to hide them. His last minutes with Dean were counting down, and Dean might not know exactly how separated they'd be, but Castiel did.

There were a million things he wanted to say, a million thing he wanted to ask, a million times he wanted to apologize for, but all of them tangled in his throat as they all tried to get out at once. He choked softly on a sob and a laugh because he knew Dean was talking about him and not the pie or the damn drink. He used some of his very last bits of grace to make Dean comfortable, washing away all the pain in his body, though he couldn't heal the causes.

Sitting silently for a long time, Castiel finally spoke, wrapping an arm around Dean's waist and pulling himself closer.

"If I had--..." he began but then closed his mouth. If he had the Grace he should have, he could have gotten another twenty years out of Dean. There was no use crying about it now.

"Dean.. If you need anything...." he said.

"Hey now, Cas. The only thing I need is for you to stay here with me."

They both knew that Dean was putting on a brave face, that he didn't want to die, but he needed to leave this life with a smile on his face. It was simply second nature now. "And maybe, pass that pie. We'll share it." He hadn't had an appetite in days, but he wanted to appreciate this piece of pie, because he was fairly certain it'd be his last.

So he loosened his hold so Cas could grab the small plate, making plaintive noises until the angel fed him. He wanted to be pampered, so sue him.

Castiel nodded, more than willing to give Dean anything he asked for, more than willing to fight whatever he had to to make his charge's last day happy. So he shifted to take the pie and fed it to Dean, bite by bite, giving him a sip of whiskey now and then, just taking in each other and they way the setting sun cast shadows on each of their faces. Castiel was happy for these moments, even for the smile he knew was sad, because he knew that it was a smile Dean could wear only if he'd been happy. Castiel had given him everything he could, given him a life to smile about, despite everything, and somehow that made it better, easier.

And maybe it was the sentimentalism or the knowledge of the approaching end, but that was the best pie that either of them had ever had, and when they were down to the last bite, Dean had Cas take it, and they kissed, slow, languid, tired kisses. He ignored the tears that he felt falling onto his cheeks, just as he knew that Castiel ignored the one that slipped from his own eyes.

There was so many things Castiel wanted to say, but they were both content, so he remained silent, and simply gave Dean all the kisses the mortal could stand while he still could, scraping every bit of Grace he could from his bones.

He knew it would kill him. But he would meet Dean on the other side. He would. He would take Dean's hand and walk him into Heaven, and fight down every angel that rose to stop him from giving his hunter his well-earned time in Heaven.

All Dean wanted was to hang onto this moment forever, to perfectly memorize the smells of the New Mexican desert and the comfort of their bed and the feel of Castiel's hands on his face and their lips connecting, almost chaste kisses exchanged again and again.

But he was so tired, so very tired.

So he placed one final kiss on Castiel's lips before he eased himself back down onto the bed, pulling Cas' arm over his side, so that they were spooning on top of the covers. "I love you, Cas. Always have, always will..." And having said his piece, he closed his eyes and fell into a slumber, breathing his last barely two minutes later.

But he met the end with a smile still on his lips, a heartfelt smile that told of a life that had been worth it all. Yeah. A good life. It really had been.

Castiel kissed the back of Dean's neck gently and gathered the now-frail body closer, wrapping wings he could no longer see himself over his lover until Dean's spirit shed it's mortal coil. Castiel drew himself up then and tore his way through to the spiritual world again, blinking his eyes and shifting his wings to adjust to sights that had been hidden from him for decades. He'd scrimped and saved his Grace for years, and there wasn't much time to lose.

His heart ached with happiness as he rose from the bed and held out his hand, Dean's aged physical body abandoned as he reached for his lover's spirit. He was breathtaking, young again, and Castiel could count every freckle once more.

"And I love you, Dean," he finally responded, blue eyes searching green. "I always will. Now, I made a promise that I intend to keep. Take my hand. "

Dean looked around, surprised to find him still beside Castiel, but more so by the rejuvenation of his body, or better said his spirit. He felt like he was freshly born, as the world around him looked strange and alien, the spiritual realm not one he'd ever seen before, or at least never remembered. So he placed his hand in Castiel's, trusting his angel to know what to do, squeezing his hand at the promise of love.

"Are we... going to Heaven then?" he asked, assuming that that's what had to be happening; although he worried at the same time, because Cas had fallen decades before. Would that affect this final trip?

"Yes," Castiel replied, glancing upwards, his eyes tired as he wondered what awaited him there. Would his brothers and sisters shun him? Attack him? Attack Dean? Whatever the cost, or the price, or the obstacle, Castiel would see his lover firmly seated in his own Heaven, whatever that might be for Dean. Castiel wouldn't know until they were there. He checked his grace, making certain he had enough, and then pulled Dean close to him, against him, ready to call his angel blade at any moment should he need to.

He leaned forward and kissed Dean on the temple gently, taking one last look around their home on earth, able to see the spiritual imprints they had left behind over the years, like feather dust from a butterfly's wings.

And then using his Grace, he took them to Heaven, appearing outside the gates of what had once been his home, his eyes determined as if he expected a fight. He tried not to stumble, tried not to show how utterly exhausted he truly was, or how quickly his clock was running down, but instead spread his wings slowly. "I'm coming to drop someone off," he called out with the voice of the warrior he always had been.

"He belongs here. Let him in."

An angel named Azrael appeared in front of the gates, his spiritual visage displaying his nature as the angel of Death, two great tomes hung from chains about his hips, and he peered out from under his hood with cold fire burning in empty sockets. "That is not your job, Castiel. You have no reason to return to Heaven any longer." He stepped forward, emaciated, thin legs peeking from under his dark grey robes, tattered material crinkling to dust at the motion. "Why did you not let a reaper take his soul? Were you thinking of using him to return home? Or... oh. Dean Winchester. He is the human you have been living with all this time," he stated with dry, feigned surprise as he read from the black book off his right hip, letting it fall back down after he'd read Dean's name inside it.

Castiel knew Azrael, and stiffened slightly as his brother moved, the first Angel Castiel had seen in decades. The rattle of Chains was somewhat disconcerting, but the dying Seraph held his ground, not yet drawing his blade. It only took a moment for his brother to grasp the situation and Castiel leveled his gaze at the ground with a nod. "I don't need to return. I only need to finish my task, he said softly, examining the tome that Azrael lifted. He was tense, ready to fight, ready to argue, ready to do whatever he needed to get Dean through those gates again, but the line of his shoulders relaxed and then fell as Azrael read his verdict.

"I must let him enter, but I need do no such boon for you, brother. I am sorry, but they would not suffer your presence."

There was a blast of light and the gates were suddenly wrenched open, the sound of metal twisting painfully, and a voice in Castiel's mind whispered, _Go, finish your task._

Azrael look up towards the skies where a supernova of energy burned the very air around it. "YOU! HOW DARE YOU RETURN, FALLEN!" And the dark angel, along with a whole contingent of the Host, streaked across the sky, like meteors on a winter's night.

_Go, Castiel._

Dean, for his part in the matter, had absolutely no idea what was going on, nor could he understand what the great burning energy in the sky was. Had something attacked Heaven?

It was enough for Castiel. He'd gotten Dean here, and Dean would be able to spend the rest of eternity happy in his little corner of the heavens. He turned, prepared to bid Dean farewell when the gates were wrenched open and a voice urged him through.

He knew who it must be almost instantly, and though he was confused as to why, he was beyond questioning anymore. He was too weak to fight and too weak to brush this small boon away.

"Come, Dean." A hundred of his brothers and sisters poured out of the gates as bugles sounded, ignoring the Seraph and his charge, and Castiel grabbed Dean’s hand before simply walking through the shredded wrought gold.

Abruptly they were in Dean's corner of Heaven, guided by Dean's soul; the sky a beautiful blue and the Impala before them, sitting on a smooth road that twisted off in the distance like some enormous black snake. Castiel smiled weakly to see it, his grip on Dean's hand beginning to loosen as the last bits of his Grace stretched thin. Dean was to share his bit of Heaven with another soul, it seemed.

Moose sat in the passenger seat of the impala, the window down, as if Dean had just asked him if he wanted to go for a ride. A song Castiel knew by heart drifted to them from the speakers, and Castiel could see a few things that made his smile bigger. A pack of cold beer sparkled on the dash, along with a few of what Castiel guessed were wrapped up burgers.

Glancing at his lover, Castiel gave him a tired and sad smile, and lowered his head before whispering, "Well. This is it." He had no idea what Dean might find further down the rode in his afterlife, but it didn't matter. It would be good. He knew it would. How desperately he wished he had the time to crawl in that seat and go on one last trip.

Dean saw the Impala, and as silly as it might have been, he was glad to see it, to greet it like an old friend. When he saw Moose in the passenger seat, his smile spread a little wider. Funny, in the end, he didn't mind that Moose was in the passenger seat, because now his Heaven wouldn't just be him. Turning to Castiel his smile faltered a little as he reached out, pulling Cas into a warm embrace. They stayed together like that for no longer than a minute, but it felt like eternity.

However Dean could feel the strain this was for Cas, could see where portions of Cas' spiritual body were dissipating, translucent and foggy. "Where will you go?"

He wasn't sure he wanted Heaven without Cas.

Castiel was an angel, so why couldn't they let him finally rest? Why couldn't Heaven let them both have this? But somehow, he knew with perfect assurity that that simply wasn't going to happen.

Castiel smiled to see Dean's smile, but knowing that he'd never see Dean again was destroying the angel bit by bit. It was no matter that he was fading already. It didn't matter that he didn't have forever, Dean would, and Dean would be happy. Castiel wondered briefly who would find Dean's body on Earth, cold and abandoned, his faithful lover nowhere to be found. Castiel would have returned to give it a hunter's burial, but it was too late and he was too drained. He tried to find solace in his lover's arms, knowing that though all had been lost to him, this hadn't. He'd managed to keep this promise, this one promise, and he told himself he'd done well at it. He spent the time taking care of the one person left that meant something to him and had lived to see him gain an eternity of happiness.   

As they parted, the angel managed the biggest smile he could when Dean asked where he would go, setting his hand on Dean's chest as he counted the hunter's freckles, one last time, knowing exactly where they were and how many there were left. He didn't answer verbally, only stroked the place over Dean's heart with a gentle hand before looking up into those green eyes, just one last time.

Dean in turn traced a hand down Castiel's face and rubbed his thumb over those lips he knew far better than his own. "Thank you Cas... you..." He didn't know what to say, feeling like they'd already said everything they needed.

Cas leaned into the hand on his cheek briefly, and shook his head, "No Dean, thank you."

But then Moose was barking and he knew he had to go. With a final kiss, he turned and got into the Impala, engine roaring to life in perfect condition. As he peeled out onto the endless highway, he held a hand out the window and pumped his fist into the air, yelling an exclamation of pure joy and delight, his Heaven filling him so he knew no sorrow, no regret, no pain.

And as the Impala vanished into the distant horizon, strains of that old song were still just audible on the breeze.

 

Friends and liars

Don't wait for me

Cause I'll get on

All by myself

I put millions of miles

Under my heels

And still too close to you

I feel

 

I am not your rolling wheels

I am the highway

I am not your carpet ride

I am the sky

I am not your blowing wind

I am the lightning

I am not your autumn moon

I am the night

The night

 

When he could no longer hear the song, Castiel collapsed, dropping to his knees, Heaven's Grace surrounding him, but no longer able to fill him. He wanted to beg for just a little more time, for the first time in a long, long while, but he did not; instead wrapping his arms and wings about him as he curled onto his side in the dust. He couldn't move any further, and with just a few seconds left to him he looked around, at the place he had once called home, before closing his eyes, ready to know peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're all allowed to cry now. I brought tissues. *Holds out tissues for everyone*
> 
> One last chapter to go, folks.


	21. Eden, or Something Like It.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time for Castiel to honour his last pledge has finally come.

As Castiel's Grace bled dry, even faster now that he was within the bounds of Heaven, which was actively trying to expunge the fallen angel, there came a chilling light that held him close as the Host of Heaven came upon them. The light was everywhere at once, blindingly bright so you were distracted from the grotesque and macabre forms of which it was composed. Heads of serpents and dragons bit clean through some of the lesser angels, while great talons slashed and horns gouged. The Great Adversary was single handedly fighting off the Host while holding the dying seraph to his bosom, roaring challenge to any who could best him.

There were none.

The weakening Seraph barely stirred at the sights he saw, or the arms he felt around him, though he wondered, in his half-alive state if this might be his father at last, come to tell him he'd done well, or to finally release him from his burdens, absolve him of his crimes. Forgiveness was all he sought, all he wanted, but he wasn't to have it. Not yet. Not this day.

And as he fell back, for his own purposes and not those of retreat, he smirked and dropped, falling from Heaven like a meteor, hurtling towards the opened arms of the weary Earth. She sensed her savior and welcome him.

Just before they hit the ground, Lucifer's great wings unfurled from his sides and beat in fearsome strokes, giving birth to tornados as he slowed their descent. As his feet touched the ground, burning bright enough to blind, life sprang forth in all manner of the winter flora; holly and snowdrops and hellebores. Then the vines of thorned roses pushed forth, embracing him like a lover might, hungry for even a drop of that angel's blood. He willed them away without even a motion, and they grew along the ground and leaves and flowers burst forth, the flowers pure and white as the driven snow.

So he placed Castiel on the loamy soil and took Castiel's Grace from deep within himself where he had harbored it for decades, and he knit it back into the seraph's essence with infinite care.

When he stood back up from where he had kneeled next to Castiel, his light finally receded so that Sam's face was visible, head still wreathed in a corona of pure morning light and eyes blazing like suns, but he smiled as only Sam could. _Welcome back, Castiel._

Lucifer wanted to know if time had given Castiel perspective, had explained to his poor brother, why had acted as he had, but he was content to wait and see how Castiel had fared. Sam wanted Castiel, and that was enough for the Morningstar.

Castiel was all but gone when he first felt the touch of familiar grace, his own, being poured back into him, little by little so he wasn't overwhelmed. It had traces of Lucifer's grace on it still, and it gave him breath and sight and power back. It gave him everything he needed to wake up and face another day. But he didn't want that. Not now. He didn't want the burden of fulfilling his promise. He didn't want to destroy innocent men and women and children, whose only crimes were lacking intelligence. But another part of him reminded him of his first vow, the one he had given to have those years with Dean, and so he opened his blue eyes, no longer faded from lack of grace.

When he saw Sam's face and a smile that he still loved, even after all this time, he shifted, sitting up slowly, glancing himself over as the voice invaded his mind. He didn't push it away this time. There was no point. He had no reason left to run.

Slowly, he stood, taking in the wonder of the small oasis around them with quiet eyes, before focusing his attention back on his bonded, taking a deep breath.

 _Hello, Sam_ , he responded, feeling guilty and angry for that night they'd parted years ago. Had Sam ever known what had happened? Had Lucifer ever told him? Scrubbing his hand over his face, he exhaled slowly, feeling a Grace deep ache.

Sam stepped forward, careful and reticent, as if he was afraid that Castiel would not want him near. _I... thank you... for seeing Dean through to Heaven._

But he made no move closer, no effort to reach out and touch Castiel. He knew that what had been years of isolation for him, although filled as he was with Lucifer, these past decades had been a life that Castiel had built with Dean, a life he had just lost; been brought back from the edge of death once more. He felt guilty for that, as he still remembered the depth of pain Castiel had held when they had first talked, so very long ago now, just two lost souls with no direction or home.

He'd missed Castiel. His sense of time slowly changing to fit an angel's, to fit with Lucifer's endless patience, but still it had been a long time for him to have been denied the company of Castiel, if only as a friend.

 _Do... If you want, Cas, I wouldn't hold it against you... You don't have to, Cas. I can unmake you, set you free._ Sam offered, because through all of this, he would never be a tyrant, would always suffer from too much heart which was destined to have left him alone if Lucifer had not completed him. _I'd understand if you did._

Everything inside Castiel wanted to jump at that offer, to latch onto it and beg Sam to do just that, but instead he simply lowered his head. He'd kept one vow. He would keep the other, now that he could. He was tired. So tired, and so broken and he wanted so much. He'd missed Sam so terribly, and all those years without his bonded mate had damaged him more than he thought.

He wondered if Sam still missed him as he gave a single shake of his head. _No, Sam. No. I did not pledge this vow to you, and it's not yours to release me from._ His hands curled into fists at his sides, the shackles of what he'd promised weighing heavily on him. He'd been freed from one cage, only to remember the bars of another.

He flexed his Grace and his wings, steadying himself before closing his eyes. Certain that he was no longer supposed to touch Sam physically, after what had transpired, he looked up at the sky, wishing he could see Dean again.

Lucifer coiled up, warming himself by the light of Sam's soul, and he thought a long moment over Castiel's words. ** _If Sam would offer you release, that would be as if I had offered it, Castiel. But that's valiant of you to be willing to honor it when you're so broken inside._**

Sam winced at Lucifer's words, knowing the truth of what he said. He could feel how tattered Castiel's resolve was, how broken his spirit, and all he wanted was to stop Cas' pain, but he knew the angel too well to expect him to ask for the easy way out. After all this time, Castiel still held his responsibilities above all else. _Well... either way, it's good to see you again,_ he said, feeling so terribly awkward and gangly again, as he hadn't in years; this obscurity hurting as much as it had each time they met again after such a separation, and yet so much worse.

He'd checked in on them over the years, never again making the mistake of letting himself be noticed, and he'd watched the gentle progression of time age his brother, deepen the bond between the two of them. It was masochistic in a way that little else ever could compare to, watching two people who you loved live on without you, watching their joy and knowing that you would never share in it, watcing their pain at losing you and knowing you would never ease it.

Lucifer had only explained to him that Dean had asked Castiel to not see his lover again, and that Castiel, out of honor, had chosen to honor that request. It had taken almost fifteen years for him to finally explain that, but Sam understood that his angel had only been trying to shelter him from the pain of watching Castiel walk away again. It had only been five years prior, however, when Lucifer had explained that he had taken Castiel's Grace, and for that, Sam felt guilty by association alone.

 _I... I missed you._ And just like that, he felt like they were in the tree again, and he hated himself as the portion of Castiel's Grace inside of him warmed at the memory. Damn. Why did he have to keep hurting Castiel by asking for so much? He already had Lucifer, and he knew that Castiel had just lost Dean, so he had no right to want for more than this.

Castiel closed his eyes as Lucifer spoke to him, not wanting to hear his brother's voice again for the rest of his days. There had been a time once, when he'd believed he he could accept Lucifer and Sam both, but after his Grace had been torn from him unwillingly, hehad found himself disgusted again.  It flared up again, now, making him feel sick and nauseous as if Lucifer was kind to offer him such a thing. He did it for Sam's benefit, but not for Castiel. The angel was certain.

He wished he could say the same, did he wish it, but Sam meant Lucifer, and he couldn't reconcile that anger just yet. His fingers flexed again as he checked the return of his powers and called his blade into being, almost mechanically making certain that he had everything needed for what was to come. He was fighting to shut his feelings down when Sam spoke the words Castiel had first spoken before, and the angel froze momentarily, turning to look up at Sam almost incredulously.

"You missed me? You left, Sam," he said, tone hurt as he broke the mental connection. "Lucifer took my grace even after I told him I would come back. "He took at least a decade from Dean because of his jealousy and his anger and you didn't ask for it back?" His shoulders dropped, and he shook his head. "You're my bonded Sam. I missed you too. I can't not miss you," he murmured. "There was not a day that passed that I did not think of you, but I've learned that that doesn't mean you feel the same," he looked down again.

"I am yours. I will always be yours. You are my true-mate, for better or for worse. But that does not mean that I am not upset about the circumstances. Do you know what it feels like, to lie in bed next to someone you love and realize that you love someone else more, but you cannot be with them?"

Sam stiffened at Castiel's words, feeling he deserved all of the angel's ire, even if there had been reasons. Once he would have defended himself, but now he'd grown too cold, too hard to let himself feel the suffering that this seemed to always bring them. "I'm sorry, for what that's worth." And he was, he was sorry for everything. "If I knew a way to set you free from me, Cas, I would have. I wanted you to be happy with Dean." With that he clamped his lips shut and turned away, not wanting to let himself explain that he hadn't known, he hadn't had that power to repair what Lucifer had ripped asunder. How he wished that he had never dragged Castiel down with him. But all these 'what ifs' were nothing more than a chasing after the wind, and he was tired of it.

He knew what it was like to be completed and still wish for what you had had.

Lucifer's Grace rubbed against his mind, a gentle touch that even now made his skin crawl at how alien it was and yet perfectly familiar at the same time.

His other half was something so far beyond his comprehension, and all he wanted was an angel who'd he destroyed, not once, but twice.

Figures.

Turning back to Castiel, Sam drew his shoulders back and tried to remind himself that this was not a joyous reunion - because of him, because of Lucifer. "Well, I won't hold you to anything you don't want to do, Cas. Death is ready to break the Seventh Seal, so there's no need for you to watch if you don't want. It's all automated. Apparently the Apocalypse doesn't really need anyone's help, just let it out of the gates and watch it go..." He explained, nearly no emotion in his voice as he tried his best to hide the hatred that he had for humanity, that Lucifer had helped cultivate.

"There is no way to set me free. I will love you until my last breath, Sam," Castiel replied, his eyes growing a little more sad. Turning, he moved over to his mate and set a hand on his chest with a heavy sigh. Fanning his fingers, he looked up at Sam with soft sigh, biting his bottom lip and then turning Sam's face toward him, looking into those green eyes.

"Sam... is there no way, nothing you would be willing to consider?" he whispered. "You both have countless, endless worlds to enjoy and experience, and of them all, you wish to destroy every human on this one? God no longer listens to us. He does not tell us to value humanity over angel's anymore. Can we not cull the cruel ones, and leave the innocent? Would you rather not rule them and guide them, rather than destroy them?"

His own voice was hopeless, he knew he bargained for something Lucifer would not give him. The archangel's hatred was too great.

"Can you not be content with me, and my love?"

"Cas..." Sam sighed, and it sounded as if this was an echo of an argument he'd had countless times before. "It's not just about what I want."

**_It mostly is, but I'm not conceding on this point. Look how much pain just one human brought you._ **

_He was my brother, Lucifer!_

**_Exactly..._ **

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he looked down at Castiel and raised a hand, letting it hang in the air a moment before he decided that placing it on Castiel's shoulder wouldn't be too much for either of them. "You think I want to lead people?" he asked, his voice betraying his confusion. Castiel should have known him better than that. He'd fought his entire life against the destiny that he was supposed to lead demons, and he didn't want to turn around and lead people now.

He wasn't qualified to lead anyone.

Castiel looked at the hand on his shoulder, and then back up at Sam, taking a deep breath and stepping forward to press himself against Sam's body, reaching through Lucifer's Grace to touch the bit he had given Sam; willing Sam to remember all the times they had shared, all the wonders they had seen, a great majority of them the product of human ingenuity, of human work. He reminded Sam of doctors who gave up luxurious lives to go help the less fortunate, of children who would talk to anyone, of organ donors, who gave pieces of their bodies freely to others. He reminded Sam of humans who would help the elderly across the street with groceries, humans who gave their lives protecting others. He acknowledged that there were those who were cruel and unkind, those who would hurt others for pleasure, but mostly, he reminded Sam of the good and the innocent.

He knew that Lucifer was a lost cause, but if he could just get Sam to remember, to see, maybe Lucifer wouldn't obliterate them completely.

"I don't think you want to lead them, but surely guiding them, showing them their errors and teaching them how to correct them, is better than destroying them. How many people down here have no other wish than to spend one more day with their loved ones? How many children have no thought of anything but their favorite toys? Sam... Surely there is a better way than... this." He gestured emphatically, his eyes plaintive and open.

"It's something that Lucifer could never see, through his anger. It's something he would rather not acknowledge. If he continues to believe they are all bad, then he doesn't have to feel guilt. But you're human Sam. You know better, and I would stand at your right hand and kill any you deemed unrighteous without hesitation, as long as you didn't turn your back on all of them." His own struggles echoed in his words, the abandonment of his own father fresh in his mind.

Sam closed his eyes against the memories that Castiel dredged up. "Cas, it's not that simple. I don't want to guide anyone. I'm pretty much the worst possible person to guide anyone. I mean, I'm happy that I let Lucifer free. I just want this all to be over, Cas. I want to not have to look around and see people whose lives I've destroyed, to look around and see that the people I once knew are gone. I don't want to take the place of God, Cas."

Not like you did. He didn't say it, but the implication hung in the air between them like an iron curtain.

But then his voice stilled and his posture changed. "You really are an ungrateful little worm, aren't you?" Lucifer asked his obviously rhetorical question. "How many times will you cause him pain? Have you taken a moment to consider what he does want? Or are you so nostalgic from your years with his brother, living out your human lives that you would ask this of him? Do you know, the great kindnesses in your life were not from humanity, they were from Sam. Each and every time. He's loved you, loved you in ways you never saw. And he is human and flawed and perfect in so many ways that you never understood because you never took the time to look."

Lucifer stalked around Castiel, holding onto his shoulders from behind, lips ghosting over his ear. "Sam was the one who paid your medical bills, who stationed a demon to watch that you received the best care, who saw that your house was cheap enough for Dean to buy, who silenced the majority of the public outcry at a homosexual couple moving into their town. And I didn't tell him why you had left, so he did all of this thinking that you had simply chosen Dean over him because it made you happier that way. He did all of that and more, because he loved you, a love that grew into something even you might have been able to appreciate, if you'd cared to see past your own preconceived notions of what love should be."

"But no," his fingers clamped down on Castiel, hard enough to bruise, "no you have to keep asking for more, because you think that killing these aborted failures of Father's is something you should feel guilt over. Have I not been generous enough with you, Castiel? Should I give you that release you wish for so, now, and keep Sam safe from your wanton idealism?"

Castiel listened, taking a step back to prepare himself, their encounter from years ago fresh in his mind.

"I'm not trying to cause him pain, Lucifer. I'm trying to make both of you see that there is a better way." Following his brother with his eyes, his expression turning heated as Lucifer continued, twisting his words. But his anger drained away as Lucifer continued, his confusion growing as the Archangel susinctly informed him that the things he had been grateful for in his 'mortal' life, the things that had given him his faith in humanity back, were not random occurrences, but instead orchestrated by Sam.

His expression humbled and his shoulders bowed as he fought to come to terms with the fact that his faith in the humans had been perpetrated by Sam. Everything he had thought good in his life was nothing more than a helping hand from someone who had loved him. His stomach turned over, And he took a deep breath, closing his eyes against the pain and the logic in Lucifer's words. He didn't want to believe or admit that his brother had points, and he kept telling himself over and over that children did not deserve to die that those who truly cared for their fellows should be allowed to live in peace.

His lips parted as his brother's breath sent shivers down his spine, hands rough on his shoulders.

Grunting as the fingers grew tighter, the angel's world was turned upside down again. He took a breath and turned his head to look at Lucifer. "You hate them so much... " he breathed sadly, before lowering his eyes. "I'll never be able to understand why you took him, if you hate them all so much." 

Lucifer smirked a little, pulling back while still holding Castiel in his grip, "Oh, of course you're not trying, but you're succeeding spectacularly. And a better way?"

"Again," he let go and walked around, fluid grace in each step, until he was again face to face with Castiel, "you are basing your assumptions on there being a moral issue over killing the human populace. You are holding yourself to a moral code set forth by a Father who made them and then abandoned us. So tell me, is He really the best judge of how to act?" He laughed a little, the irony of how much he had changed; once he had not worshiped these beasts because of his love for his Father, now he wanted to kill them out of his apathy towards Him.

"You say that there are good humans who do good deeds, intrinsically of worth and value. Fine, then lets argue for the groups of these 'good' humans who have no voice. The abortion, billions upon billions who will never be born because of the selfishness of their parents, who did not take the precautions to refrain from the act of creation. Or those humans who are, brain dead, I believe they call it? Who are killed out of 'mercy', when they are the ones who are the most at peace, the closest to rest. You have wars fought over oil and religion and territory," he ticked each tawdry reason on his fingers as he listed them.

Stepping closer, he tilted his head to the side, eyes filled with a curious pity for his brother, "And you want to defend them? But of course you do, because you want to redeem yourself _through_ them. You've committed your own mistakes and so you think that if they, even they, can be saved, then there is hope for you. So tell me, Castiel, if angels are as flawed and wicked as we, then what redemption is there in these humans? Hmmm?"

Castiel swallowed harshly and closed his eyes, biting his bottom lip hard enough to bruise before looking back up at Lucifer. He knew he was breaking again, and he couldn't stop it. He couldn't cling to his faith forever. He wanted to believe in something so badly for so long, that he couldn't just let it go, could he?

And then Lucifer used words that rang so true in the Angel's head that he took a step backward, as if he'd been punched in the gut. That was the whole of it wasn't it? A lost angel trying to find his way home, when there was no longer a home to accept him, much less one that even would.

He bowed his head, having no answer to give his brother.

At the defeat written plainly across Castiel's features, Lucifer softened slightly. Reaching out, he placed his hand under Castiel's chin and lifted his head. "Castiel, I asked you once, if you wouldn't serve your best interests, by joining me. I know you've already pledged a debt to me, but I would prefer if you joined me willingly. If not for me, then for Sam. He loves you, would have you again in an instant if he felt that he was not robbing you away from the memory of Dean. And if he loves and wants you, Castiel, then I want to give that to him. Do you understand, little Sparrow? I love Sam, and I have always been willing to love you, if only you would stop hurting Sam."

"But if that is not something you still wish to pursue, then simply help us with this to finish your debts and I will set you free to the oblivion that you so desire."

The Morningstar smiled internally, knowing that without a single lie, he had more than enough of an arsenal of silver coated words to convert the fallen angel.

Castiel lifted his face, eye shimmering as his brother's hand guided him to look up, his expression quiet and lost. The angel's mind was almost blank as he tried to pin down exactly where he went wrong, exactly what he had done to deserve this life and these hellish choices. Well, of course he had done some bad things, and he probably deserved them now, but where had their Father been in the beginning? Why had he abandoned them all? What was it all for? It was senseless.

Castiel opened his mouth, still uncertain as to what he was going to say, but another promise he had made long ago made itself known. He'd pledged himself to Sam before any of this had happened, pledged to take care of him, keep watch over him and his brother until the days they drew their last breaths.

"I'll... stay. But only if that is what he... truly wants," his voice wavered and so did his resolve, and he looked as if he wished he could have pick the second option.

"Trust me, Castiel, he wants you." Lucifer moved in, claiming Castiel's mouth even as he relented control back to Sam. The fact that Sam wasn't suddenly surprised but immediately pulled Castiel against him made it all too obvious that Lucifer had at least let Sam hear the tail end of that conversation, unlike the last time he and Castiel had fought.

Sam's arms reached up to hold onto the outsides of Castiel's shoulders and he pulled back, looking at the angel, seeing the old depression that Lucifer had brought back. "Cas. Are you ok? I... I mean, I know you just had to... Dean. I... I like to think I've learned some patience from Luce, so if you need time, I understand. I'm just so tired of messing this up with you, you know?"

He knew, knew that they were back at square one in so many ways. Back to confessions of their sins in the halo of a street lamp. He just didn't want Castiel to be with him because of a promise he'd made before, because he was bound to Sam in too many ways, like roots that had taken root when neither of them had been looking. Would it be better to leave this part of their crazy friendship, relationship, whatever it was, until after the Cleansing? Would it make it more bearable for Cas to have that connection re-established now? How he wished he had more answers, but these questions never seemed to have the same answers twice.

Castiel almost jerked back as Lucifer kissed him, but he didn't. Not anymore. Whoever was in there would be kissing him until time folded over on itself and started anew, and Lucifer relinquished it to Sam easily enough. Castiel gasped against Sam's mouth as he was reminded of so many things, some painful, some so happy it nearly broke him. He searched Sam's face.

"It's not something time can change, Sam. I was able to keep my promise to Dean, and I'm grateful for that. There were days when I couldn't wait to see you again, and days where I wished I would die like Dean, but I could never put more time between, not now that we are here. Not now, that we can be together." It didn't make sense to the angel. He would love Sam through a purge, whether or not he wanted Dean. And time hadn't changed it before, and his biology wasn't going to change either.

Defeated, and tired, and dreading what was coming, he just pressed his cheek against Sam's clavicle, taking a long, breath, and the scent of lover he hadn't held in two decades.

Somehow, even with Lucifer living inside of him, Sam forgot how completely different angels were from humans. Perhaps it was naivety or perhaps a certain level of pride, but he all too often found himself expecting human reactions from them. Castiel's words perfectly demonstrated that. So he simply thanked a god he no longer believed in for the miracle that Castiel was, and wrapped his arms around the weary angel. He wished that a broken spirit was something he could fix with Grace, but life had never been that easy.

Now that he had Castiel back, he wasn't sure what to do. There was still a part of him that felt that this was all unfair to Cas, that one stupid decision that he hadn't known the consequences of had forced his hand down this path, and he wondered if years down the road, Castiel wouldn't come to him and ask for death. How many times could a man's, an angel's, spirit be broken before they simply gave up?

Lucifer whispered in his mind of endless expanses of time in the black morass of the Cage, of insanity that had been boundless, and of solitary purpose. Mostly though, Lucifer whispered of his dark love that would never leave Sam alone. So Sam took some solace in the fact that even if Castiel should leave him again, he'd never be truly alone into eternity.

Did that make him greedy? To already have an angel but want another one as well. That seemed like it should.

"You alright Cas?" Sam asked gently.

"No." Came the honest answer as Castiel shook his head. "I am not." But it didn't matter if he was alright or not. It didn't matter that he would be responsible for the deaths of hundreds, thousands. The fact wasn't going to change, and he was tired of fighting, of believe that if he just asked a certain way, or did something a certain way, that he could stop it. He couldn't and there was no more fight left in him. Over his thousands of years, he had realized that time changed things. For a long time he hadn't felt anything at all, and then in the span of a blink of an eye to the angel, everything had been changed by two humans.

He'd learned to love, and even now that love was steady and bright and endless. He would feel it for the rest of his days. They had both made him happy in their own ways, and he'd done his best with Dean, to be faithful and love him as no other could. He owed Sam the same amount of time at least, and he would give it, as weary as he was. Perhaps time would ease the ache of guilt and sorrow he knew he would feel.

There was only one way to find out.

"I don't know if I can make it through this Sam," Castiel said, reaching out to grip the back of Sam's nape, pulling him down to kiss him gently. "I don't know, but I will try. That's all I can offer," he whispered against Sam's lips.

Sam loosely held Castiel in his arms as they kissed again, almost wincing at the desolation he sensed from it. "I understand Cas. I wouldn't ask you of any more than that." If a day came when Castiel couldn't, Sam wouldn't deny him death just to keep him. After all, being greedy could only go so far.

He sighed against Cas' lips, wrapped his hands a little tighter. "I'd never ask you for more than you're willing to give Cas."

But Castiel kept giving more than he had...

And that was what worried Sam, that Castiel was once again giving Sam all that he had because he couldn't not.

* * *

The end of the world came not with a bang, nor a whisper, but a tearing of the sky; with fire and brimstone, and death that rolled in like a tide. The Fallen flew up from the torturous depths of Hell and into sky where they pulled down a third of the stars and rained destruction on the Earth. Death himself was bound so that he was a great cloud of darkness that descended upon the lands and washed through it and over it and around it, people choking and dying in the millions, billions. Some simply felt their souls ripped from them as invisible spirits ran past, claws holding fast and pulling hard.

The end of it all was bloody and personal and filled with the dying screams of the multitudes. It sounded like the gnashing of teeth in Hell. It sounded like ultimate suffering.

It sounded like vengeance made flesh.

Lucifer was covered from head to toe in blood and bit of human entrails, for while he had no need to so much as lift his hand for the end to be realized, he wanted to. He wanted to wade through the veritable sea of death, to stand upon piles of corpses and sneer at their fate. He wanted to rip them apart and scream at the Heaven, "Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani?!"

These beings had taken his Father from him, a father who he was bound to love as surely as Castiel was bound to love Sam, and yet a million times stronger. An angel simply could not love God any less or any more than they did at their first creation, and Lucifer loved so very much. It was his burden, his madness, that his love should twist into something that destroyed worlds, that slaughtered billions.

For Sam, the culling of the human race was a simpler affair, he let himself go with the violence and the senseless destruction, assured that in the new world that Lucifer would raise from the ashes there would simply be no one left for him to hurt or fail. He was tired in ways that a human soul should never be, in ways that only a human soul can. He wasn't made to live forever, but complete with Lucifer, now he would. So he held his eyes wide open as he took on all the sins of the world, remembering them in solemn defiance of the evils they'd committed, he'd committed this day. If humanity had had its day and the end of the book was upon him, Sam wanted to remember their passing like one remembers a storm in the comfort of the silence following it.

As they drove their hand into yet another body of a man running from his destiny, he found that Lucifer's smile had become his own as his mind broke from holding the entirety of the destruction, from being the sole proprietor of the damnation of his own race. He didn't feel human. Lucifer said that was a good thing, because he'd never truly been one.

He'd been half of Lucifer, away from home.

And Lucifer had been half of Sam, locked away between the dim and the dark.

And together, they were neither man nor angel nor any power the world had ever known. They were reckoning. They were destruction. They were the Omega who cried out for a God who had abandoned them all.

For Castiel, the end of the human race was a much more personal affair. Still burdened, _afflicted_ with the love for humans the years had cultivated in him, the hopeless angel did his best to bear it, following the only orders he had left from the vow he had made decades earlier. Still Fallen, he was neither a messenger of Heaven nor Hell any longer, and with no host, he took it upon himself to do the things still within in his power.

He could not pull down the stars, but that did not mean he could take not part in the destruction.

He wanted to be merciful, not hateful. He wanted to ease as many of this flock as he could, though it gave him no peace. He walked the earth, blade in hand, taking the lives of those who lingered, the injured, the sick, those who cowered far away from the rest of humanity in hopes that this great scourge would pass them over. He hunted them down, one by one, and stole their lives as quickly and painlessly as he could, taking no joy in the task, and only adding to his guilt.

And though he was set and committed to seeing this through to the end, he did pause, but only twice.

The first was a little girl, no older than nine, almost brown with dirt and dried blood, protected by the bodies of her parents, who had obviously loved her. They'd sheltered her when one of the great tornados hit, and though neither of them had survived, she had somehow managed to hang on to life. Long locks that would have been golden blonde were she clean dangled down her back, sticking and coated with blood.  Blue eyes, wide and fearful, stared up at him as he found her, huddled in the remnants of her home. His heart, which he thought he'd shut down enough to do this, shuddered and stopped, because she reminded him of something he'd forgotten long ago. Jimmy Novak. His vessel, that pious good man who had only wanted to protect his family... She reminded Castiel of Jimmy's daughter, and the angel took a moment to look down at himself. He was still wearing the trench coat, something he no longer had a right to wear, covered in blood, all edges stained with his sin.

He removed it first, gingerly, wrapping it about her thin, shivering shoulders as he knelt before her, and cupped her face, wiping away a tear from her cheek with a tenderness he no longer thought himself capable of.

"Don't cry. If you're brave, you'll see your parents again. Can you be brave, little one?" When she nodded, Castiel took a breath. "Close your eyes then."

She did as instructed, and in just a heartbeat, it was over as he buried his blade in her, quick and painless as he used his Grace to ease her passing. He left her body there, with those that loved her, and didn't look back.

The second time he paused destroyed whatever was left of the original Castiel the angel had, when he came upon a pair of brothers, also both young. He'd seen many pairs of brothers die already, but these two.. They looked to have the age difference of Sam and Dean. The elder brother, newly fourteen, stood guard over his sleeping younger, just nine or ten. It was in the dead of night, in a barn, on a farm far out, with the moon shining brightly and the wind howling. The older brother had a shotgun clenched in his hands while the younger had nestled into a pile of hay for warmth.

He sat for a long time, invisible to them, warding off those who would claim them for their death counts. The Seraph was helplessly locked for an entire day over the decision, just watching them as they tried to survive, sharing their food and water with each other with no hesitation. Only when a more powerful Fallen happened by did it finally force his hand. This Fallen didn't particularly care about his status as Sam's mate, and would take them no matter what Castiel said. Their deaths were swift and painless as Castiel's last shred of sanity broke.

He never paused again after that, and swept the world with haunted eyes, instead of the glee his fallen brothers and sisters displayed, letting his grace drain freely to ease the pain of those he killed. And even when the world was silent again, the angel still hunted, as if he didn't even realize that it was over. He seemed locked away in his own mind, returning again and again to the spots where he was likely to find survivors, unable to stop because he could not face what he'd done. His Grace was draining fast, and he paid it no heed as he continued to circle and circle and circle endlessly, as if he were one of those lost souls stuck repeating his death.

* * *

It took awhile for the bloodlust to pass, for the sheer release of tearing everything down, to wash away. It had been a better high than the demon blood, than even the angel blood, and it left Sam just as hollow.

At least now there was no one left to judge him for the fact that his solace was Lucifer.

When it finally did and they were left standing in the culling fields with the Fallen standing before him and demons covering the Earth, Sam took a steadying breath and turned their Grace to search for Castiel. He was not in the legion surrounding them, nor was he in the bands of Fallen who were checking for stragglers. No, when he found Castiel, the angel was wandering the Earth by himself, Grace so faint it was a miracle he found him at all.

With a thought they were there, standing off a short distance from the broken angel.

And Castiel was so very broken. He wandered the fields on weary feet, wings held out awkwardly behind him, primaries dragging in the dirt. The very fact that he'd materialized his great wings showed how disconnected he was. Sam watched for a few minutes as Castiel bent down over each body he found, holding it long enough to see if it would breath, not having enough Grace left, enough presence of mind left, to sense if their spirit had left their body.

So he appeared in front of Castiel and placed his hands on Castiel's upper arms, holding him in place, forcing him to stop drifting like a wraith. "Castiel. Cas, it's over. They're all dead and gone. You're done now, Cas, you're done."

The seraph could no longer sense his mate or his brother's grace, he could no longer sense the souls of the humans surrounding him. He could no longer distinguish the physical world from the spiritual in any way. He was gone, his mind scrubbed clean with wave after wave of blood. His clothing was tattered, and feathers dropped off his once glorious set of wings like dry, brittle leaves.

He only knew one thing anymore, and that was destruction. Ash and soot and blood coated his cheeks, his throat, his tongue; blue eyes remained unfocused and red-rimmed. His blade dangled in his fingertips loosely, caked in blood and gore, none of the silver weapon glinting as it should.

Firm hands grabbed his shoulders, and the blade dropped to the ground, sticking straight up as the angel lifted his face in the direction of that voice, wings drooping further as he furrowed his brows at Sam, and then shook his head, murmuring like a madman.

"I have to.. I have to make sure. I have to make sure," he managed to say. "They don't deserve to suffer, I have to make sure."

"And you did, Cas. You did. And they're all gone now. None of them are suffering anymore." Sam said quietly, working hard to keep the tremble out of his voice, to keep his face controlled. He had destroyed Cas, he had been the final straw that broke this camel's back. "You did so well, Cas. You saved them."

Cas had promised that he would do his best, and by Sam's measure, he had. It looked like Cas had finally given him everything left that he had to give, and that hurt worse than any guilt from killing the nameless, faceless billions. Sure it was messed up and screwed up in a million different ways, but he knew Cas, loved Cas, and he'd finally and truly ruined Cas.

"It's time for you to rest. Remember? I offered to let you rest when all of this was done, so you can just stop this, Cas, because you did it. And you're done."

Hollow eyes looked around, tracking over the field of the dead, as if still searching for any sign of movement, any sign of life he could pounce upon and end. He was like an old vinyl record, stuck on the same song, and it played over and over and over. His vow. He needed to keep it. It was the only thing he had left and he needed to make sure.

Achingly slowly, he let his gaze drift back to Sam, not really seeing his bonded. He couldn't imagine anything anymore beyond death and destruction and hatred. He could not remember the years he had spent happily with Dean. He could not remember fighting against all of this. All he knew was that he should obey.

"Rest?" he finally rasped out, mind prodded by memories of sleep, long stretches of time where he felt nothing. There had been no pain or anger then. There had been nothing.

"Yes..." he breathed softly, leaning forward, almost tumbling into Sam's arms as he just allowed himself to collapse again, cheek against Sam's chest. "Please. Please let me rest."

Sam breathed out, slow and pained and in control. As Castiel fell against him he closed his eyes and breathed back in, taking in the scent of Castiel under the stench of old blood and the battlefield. He wanted to wrap his arms around Castiel and comfort him, but he felt he'd lost that right, so instead he nodded and raised a hand towards Castiel's head on his chest. "Yes, Castiel, rest." And with that, he place two fingers to Castiel's forehead, catching him in strong arms as he fell.

Pulling Castiel up into his arms, body hanging limply in front of him, he stood in the middle of the destruction, and he finally felt as if everything was over.

_What am I going to do?_

Lucifer threaded through his body, Grace coming alive in his blood and in his bones. **_You will give him his rest, suspend him in an endless rest. If he wakes up, then he's decided that there's something to live for, if he doesn't... then he will have the oblivion he so wants._**

Sam opened his eyes to look down at the fragile thing in his arms, the strongest, bravest, gentlest soul he'd ever met. _I might never know..._

Agreement hummed sadly through him. **_Some questions are never answered, Sam. And sometimes, well, sometimes hope is the only thing left to us, even if what he hoped for is gone._ ** Lucifer obviously wasn't just talking about Cas.

That thought broke Sam's heart a little further, and he was silent a long time.

_Alright..._

* * *

Castiel's world fell away as Sam gave him the peace he needed so desperately. He no longer felt the sun on his skin or the stickiness of blood between his fingers. He no longer felt the depression or the guilt that had eaten away at him until there was nothing left. He could not hear the cries of billions of souls, dying and in pain.

He didn't remember Dean, or Sam, or their smiles, or the Enochian language. He didn't know the stories of the stars that Sam had recounted to him before. The scent of flowers and freshly baked pies were forgotten, the touch of a lover's lips on his neck faded.

There was nothing. He was nothing. He no longer existed in the physical or spiritual world. The tattered, abused soul simply allowed itself to be shut down and cut off. He was too tired to even dream. He had wanted it to be over and as far as Castiel knew, it was.

Finally.

* * *

Sam put Castiel in the hollow of an old tree that no longer grew, stunted by harsh weather and dead soil, it stood as a testament to ages past, and somehow he felt it fitting that he should secret away Castiel inside such a place. Then he let Lucifer come rushing up to the surface, letting that light pour over him, out of him, through him, and the Morningstar walked the Earth. Where his footsteps were, pools of light and Grace remained and life sprang forth, the cold of winter and the hardiest of all the plants. His was the gift of life, the same power that had once lit each star in the heavens, and so he rebuilt Earth as if she had only been slumbering in a long winter.

With each battlefield he came across, he would pick his way through the bodies and turn them back into star stuff, elements that had been created trillions of light years away, the elements of a star's shells as it burst forth in glorious light. The Earth reached towards him, towards the gifts he left in his wake, and slowly, over the course of millennia, it began to heal. To say that its decay was the humans' fault would be the same as ascribing the setting of the sun to the ocean extinguishing it; it was simply too great a task for them to have played more than a minor role in it. No, time and tide had worn down the Earth, entropy declaring that energy should change into less usable states, that all things should wind down.

And as he walked the Earth, he let Sam heal, filled his vessel's mind with his Grace as surely as his body. In ways it seemed as if the Earth would be healed long before Sam, and yet in ways he knew Sam was already complete. It was the strange dichotomy that came from being already and not yet, from being the other half of a whole.

The thing that took the longest however, were the dreams. He was careful, always threading out a smallest enough portion of Grace that Sam would not notice as he gave dreams to Castiel. At first it was just images of the world as she was repaired, of clear, flowing streams, and babbling brooks. Then it was little vignettes, like the blossoming of the first rose in spring, or a doe walking besides Lucifer, her fawn travelling out in front of them. Then one night, he himself appeared, visiting to see what the state of Castiel's mind was; for while he could appreciate rewarding a soldier for his service, he saw the great loneliness that filled Sam, and he knew that given the right circumstances, Sam and Cas could heal each other.

**_Hello Castiel._ **

* * *

 

For a time, something a soul as shredded as Castiel's could no longer fathom, there was peace. The angel was not an angel. He was not a fallen. He was not a destroyer of Earth. He was not retribution or a saviour. He was none of these things. He was nothing. He felt no pain or sorrow or guilt. He felt no joy or wonder. He had peace as his soul tried to protect itself from his mind.

The first thing he became aware of, if one could even call it awareness anymore, were splashes of color and images that he once might have understood, but now held no context for him. They meant nothing to him at first, and he regarded them all with a detached sort of interest, wondering what they were. Many times they were brief, and other times they were longer, but the angel still did not know them, or what they meant. He looked upon them at first with all the knowledge of an infant, endlessly dazzled, without understanding.

More time passed.

Somewhere along the way, through the cascade of images, the angel had begun to understand what these beautiful things were. One by one, he named the images he received, labeling the various creatures and creations with names that seemed to fit. That was a stream. That was snow. That was a deer. A doe specifically. That was a rose, with petals that reminded him of something...he could not put his finger on, something he was sure he didn't want to remember...

They, for he struggled with the concept a while, but finally accepted it for reasons he could not fathom, were Sam, and Lucifer. The words that came to him first were lover, and brother, respectively. And he spent a whole day pondering the meanings of those descriptors before he remembered his own name. Castiel. He was Castiel.

And this... thing, he was in. It was a dream.

He could not touch the things conjured by another's mind, though some days the longing to almost overwhelmed him. He couldn't experience half of what he knew was out there, because he could not wake. Or would not. He knew that the world wouldn't be as friendly as this beautiful parade of pictures would make it seem. There was something dark and terrible lingering in the shadows of his mind, something he was happy to let gather cobwebs.

He never really knew when he slipped in and out of being aware, he was slowly realizing that time was passing between each of the images, when he began to recognize areas Lucifer had visited before and see the change in them. Seasons passed, and Castiel was newly entranced by all of it.

Especially Sam.

He wasn't certain about what drew him to Sam exactly, but he did notice how he strained for peeks of his reflection in a stream or a lake when Lucifer passed by. He couldn't explain the urge to reach out and touch. Maybe he was simply fascinated because Sam was the only creature of his kind that Castiel had seen in all the dreams. Somehow it felt like more than that. He could not explain it, so he didn't try.

He was examining a butterfly one day, beautifully perched upon an equally beautiful flower he did not know the name of, when he heard his name called for the first time by someone other than himself. Language flooded back to him and he opened his mouth to answer without a hint of anger, or irony. His eyes were wide and bright, no longer clouded by horrifying memories. He was very nearly like a fledgling again, full of naive curiosity.

"Hello... Brother?" he asked softly, as if uncertain of which he was speaking to, wondering abruptly when he'd imagined himself up a body to go with his vocabulary, he hadn't had one before now. He'd seen plenty of Lucifer and Sam over the years, but he'd never been directly addressed, hadn't even truly realized they knew he existed, or was watching them.

Lucifer was simply light at first, but he slowly condensed into his spiritual form, a being that was difficult for angels to describe and impossible for humans. Looking around with his countless eyes on endless heads, he smiled slowly. "You seem to have found peace, Castiel. I'm glad." He said, realizing the truth of his words as they left his lips. "I have been sending you my memories, showing you the world that we are repairing, reviving. I felt you might appreciate seeing all the little things grow."

With a small motion and a roll of his wrist, the butterfly materialized inside Castiel's mind as a small entity made entirely of light and Grace, and it landed on Castiel's finger, wings slowly coming to rest.

"Is there anything in particular you'd like me to show you more of?"

It was a gamble, working like this. He knew how easy it might be to show Castiel something that might bring up his memories of all the evils and horror of his life, to resurrect that knowledge too soon, before Castiel's mind could handle it.

Castiel stared at his brother, at some point realizing that he, too, had a body beyond the one he had given himself in his mind. In these dreams, he was a human, or close to it, like Sam, though he didn't know for what reason he'd chosen his shape. He knew his trueform was something far grander. "They are your memories? They are beautiful." His breath caught as the butterfly flickered out of the memory and straight into his own mind.

He could feel it land on his finger, and his eyes widened in wonder and awe, that he could finally touch something.

Careful not to dislodge the little creature as it walked over his fingers, he looked up at his brother, an answer already on his lips.

"Sam?" he asked, somehow sure that he'd have to wake for that. "Or... Snow? Or ... Fall... Or the ocean!" he said, naming off what he might think were more manageable things. He was like a child in a sweetshop, and with everything catching his eye, he wasn't sure what to pick first. If he saw Sam, he knew it would only be a dream at this point.

Lucifer laughed, and it was an ancient sound that made the streams flow faster and gentle zephyrs spring to life, as warm as his Grace was cold. It was a sound that he had thought broken by the Cage, but seeing the return of innocence to his brother was as cathartic to him as destroying the planet had been. "Well, snow will be easy enough for me to make, and Fall is just a point before my Winter." He stepped forward, but he surged like a tide, as his Grace moved through Castiel's mind, appearing both closer and farther away for a moment before all of his Grace settled on a new location to reside at.

Castiel liked the sound of Lucifer's laugh, and he smiled at it, feeling as if something had changed. He hadn't had the same pull to Lucifer as he to Sam in the beginning, even though he'd realized they'd shared a body, but now.. He felt soothed and comforted by his brother's approach as he felt the push and pull of Grace as it swept through his mind. He could feel it all around him, comforting and welcoming and shimmering, like some sort of ethereal blanket that hovered over him, and yet all through him at once. He wasn't ready to wake yet and his brother understood, without having to be told that Castiel was frightened of what he might find when he woke. Sam would have to wait.

"As for Sam, well. I'll see if I can't find more reflective surfaces. He is certainly something worth looking at. But for right now..." He motioned again and his Grace exploded over the landscape, shining particles of his frozen energy falling in the closest approximation he could make of snow inside Castiel's mind, slowly coating the ground and building up to a thin layer.

"I'll see what I can do."

And with that Lucifer's presence left from Castiel's mind, leaving the dusting of Grace behind for Castiel to remember the feelings of temperature, of cold.

 Shifting the butterfly onto his shoulder with the utmost care, though he knew he could not harm it if he tried, Castiel turned his head up, eyes wide as the temperature around him changed for the first time, and snowflakes made of perfectly chilled grace began to drift down.

Lucifer had left, but Castiel was content, spending a large amount of time in the snow that never melted, pondering it's existence, it's temperature, how it drifted and fluttered and swept into piles. It was enough for the angel, for now, though he knew that soon he would want to experience other things as well. He wondered if Lucifer would return.

* * *

 

Lucifer kept his promise as well as he could, which was a tricky thing to do as Sam was not a vain creature and rarely looked for his own reflection. When they went to the Ocean, Lucifer felt warm for one of the first times in billions upon billions of years as Sam slowly pulled off his clothing and dove into the warm waters of the Carribean, blue water shimmering as Lucifer's Grace spread far and wide under the surface, trailing after Sam like phosphorescence.  As they swam, he pulled just far enough away to watch the powerful strokes of his vessel, to watch with simple adoration the only good and perfect gift that mattered to him any more.

And it was with a slight hesitancy that he shared this memory, Sam swimming, diving, coming upon a napping sea turtle and holding onto its shell, being pulled through the water far faster than human limbs could propel. He wanted Castiel to see the world with the same love and enthusiasm that Sam had, as the animals slowly forgot humans, found no fear of him, came near out of curiosity and stayed because of his own gentle nature. Sam was entrancing to creation, just as much as creation was entrancing to him.

The other Fallen and demons had abandoned their meat suits, having no need to contain their essences any longer. Lucifer was the only one who had kept his vessel, because Sam was not some human suit to wear, but his.

If Castiel was to return, well, he could keep his suit, because Sam would find it far more satisfying to have a physical companion than an interdimensional wavelength of celestial intent.

Castiel watched from the little corner of his mind he had deemed safe, staring in awe for hours at everything about it. Sam was still the only one of his kind. Castiel knew that somehow, but he refused to acknowledge why, and once or twice slipped back into that state of nothingness to escape the darkness that lingered and painted the edges of his thoughts with shadows.

He loved Lucifer for giving these things to him, for humoring him and delivering image after image.

And he loved Sam from a distance, and his longing grew to be with the human, to share these things. To see the smile on Sam's face for himself and not from a memory, and even more years went by while the angel grew restless at being unable to explore himself. To be free again, to go and experience such things under his own power... Oh that would be wonderful, if he wasn't certain that the moment he woke, something he'd longed to forget would come crashing down on him.

 _Lucifer?_ he called softly one day as he 'sat' in his own mind, among the things Lucifer had created for him.

Lucifer sent back a ripple of acknowledgement that made it obvious he'd heard, even if he was currently in the midst of something.

A short while later, although time was still a very fluid concept to Castiel's mindscape, Lucifer had gathered enough of his Grace away from whatever he had been doing to materialize in front of Castiel. "Ah, how rare of you to call out to me, Castiel. What can I do for you?"

He took this as a good sign, that Castiel was not content enough to simply laze in the haze of memories and altered reality, but that he had actually called out for Lucifer. Perhaps this meant the time for the seraph's awakening was approaching. However even if he chose to awake, everything would hinge on how he adjusted to having all of his memories again, all of his mind. Would he be able to stand the atrocities he felt he had perpetrated, or would he break again and ask for death? Lucifer held out no hope that if Castiel broke again he would be able to save him. No, if he was that set on dying, Lucifer would give him peace and comfort Sam.

May that never come to pass...

Castiel sat with his 'knees' pulled to his chest, a baby bunny that Lucifer had created him nestled in the palm of his hand, the soft fur a delightful memory to have, as well as the warmth of a mammal's body. He'd spent the hours quietly, though he had been impatient to see his brother again. It was the first time he'd actually called his brother since he had become aware again, and though he was still quite naive and childish in some ways, he'd begun to understand that there would be pain for him, if he did what he wished and woke up.

He was frightened, but growing a bit bolder with each day, a little more confident and certain that he wanted to be out there himself, that he wanted to spend time with Sam, and not just watching him.

Running his hand over the rabbit's ear, he looked down at it for a moment before standing and moving closer to Lucifer, glancing him over.

"Will it hurt?" he asked. "If I--?"

"Wake up?" Lucifer finished the thought for him, a solemn look in his eyes. "Yes, although not in the ways you might imagine. There will be no physical pain, although you will be weak, as your Grace is nearly at an end outside of here. What will hurt is the memories that you had from before, before you were here. You did things that you did not want to, that you felt obligated to do, and it destroyed you."

He pulled himself down, Grace an angry vortex until it stilled in the rough shape of a man, and Lucifer laid a hand on Castiel's shoulder, the touch of a general to his troops. "You lived for eons, Castiel, and all of that would come back to you at once, the good and the bad. I can not guarantee that you will not hurt, that you will not go mad, that you will not take your own life. I built this, all of this, because last we met, you were... destroyed." Removing his hand, he pointed out towards the dark edges of the mindscape, where the memories were restrained but still tainted everything they touched. "You felt guilt, resentment, resignation, pain, devastation. All manner of emotions that I have kept from you here. You may feel them again, you may only feel them as shadows, wraiths of what they once were."

"I... do not know." His voice was quiet, although it resounded from all around, as much the voice of nature as that of one angel.

"If you do though, survive, I would join with you, enter you into my Grace and become Host for you." Here he reached forward and touched his Grace to Castiel's, giving him the smallest, safest taste of what being with a Host again would mean, to both of them. It was a bond altogether alien from what Bonding with Sam had once felt like, altogether different from lovers or brothers or being one. Simply, it was something angels existed with and in and around, and when they were denied it, they fell into madness, each and every one of them. Madness of the mind, of the heart, of the soul.

Lucifer had the entirety of nature, and yet no Host. He had become a beast of madness so long ago that he nearly had lost the memories of Host, but he had Sam, and Sam was not the same, but he was better in his own way.

"This I would give you freely, as well as sharing Sam, for once you were his and he was yours."

Castiel closed his eyes as he listened, trying to remember what the things named felt like, though he was unable to. He wasn't sure if he should be grateful for it or not, but decided to anyway, because the chance that he might not be ready was always there. He glanced to the dark edges of his dreams, the places he dared not venture. The places that filled him with a muted dread. He didn't know what that darkness held, but he knew that he could not behold the true beauty of the world without also knowing the worst.

He could not enjoy the goodness of Sam if he didn't face whatever was hidden from him. But to hear all those things, what he'd done, what he'd felt, what he was guarded from, they terrified him.

Castiel nearly gasped as his own Grace was touched, for the first time he could remember, and he was nearly overwhelmed with it, and the power of it.  It felt full and bright and pure to him. It was beyond anything physical or spiritual he had felt in a long while, filled some deep loneliness within him that even the thought of Sam had not been able to assuage.  

"He was... mine? He knows me?" Castiel finally managed after he'd digested the bit of information and the feeling of his brother's Grace, letting the bunny down and straightening again. "Does he still want to know me?"

Lucifer watched Castiel carefully, trying to gauge what might be too much, what would be too dangerous to say still. It was so strange to watch this angel, who had once stood up to Heaven to defend two men, now practically in his fledgelency again.

"Yes. You and he had Bonded." And Lucifer touched Castiel's Grace again and gave him memories of Bonding, although far from the full force of what it had truly been. He had promised himself when he started this that he would not convince Castiel to come back simply by making him feel that bond once again. Sam had hated the fact that their bond had caused them far more pain than pleasure, or at least it had seemed that way to him; as if bonding with him had ruined Castiel's life. So Lucifer respected Sam's thoughts, even if he would never learn of what Lucifer was doing here with Castiel.

"You were Mated, Bonded, intrinsically bound to each other, and it... did not bring you as much joy as it should have. Circumstances were... against you at that time."

"Oh," Castiel breathed when he was allowed to remember his bonding with human, the piece of Grace he'd given to Sam that marked him forever Sam's. He swayed on his feet for a moment, remembering the barest hints of breath on his neck, the ghost of a hand on his lower back or his hip.

Everything about his obsession with Sam was thrown into clearer focus, and the angel looked down, running the fingertips of one hand over his inner wrist. He tried to chase the memories, to learn more, wondering if the bonding was the same for the human, if Sam wanted him the same way he wanted. He could tell the full effects hadn't been revealed to him, and he knew that there was still more he didn't know of.

How could that bond not have made him happy?

"And I can only be with him, if I wake...?" he finally said, knowing the answer and wishing it was different.

Lucifer looked at Castiel, his Grace not showing eyes as his vessel would have, and yet his regret for the pain Castiel would have to undoubtedly have to go through to learn the answer to that question was undeniable, there, inside Castiel's mind. "Until the end of time," he said with a solemnity and a finality that spoke of his fervent wish that saying it could make it true. If Castiel would awake, if he could survive this, then his Sam would finally have another body beside him, would finally have back that part of his heart that had died with Castiel.

"It would be the three of us in Eden..."

Humans were afraid of eternity, never imagining how they could stay content with paradise forever. For angels, eternity was how they were created to exist, to be until the end came, when all the stars had finally burned out and Death came to reap the cosmos.

Sam was learning to embrace eternity.

Castiel hadn't.

It was a strange thought that a human had accepted it when an angel had feared to live another day under the weight of his sins.

Lucifer fluctuated slightly, vibrating with the memories he was holding back from accidentally sharing with Castiel.

Castiel could tell that Lucifer was holding back, he could tell that his brother wanted to protect him from things not yet revealed. It made him even more frightened, but reiterated that he would need to wake to be with Sam. To be with them both.

Would Lucifer's Grace and Sam's love be enough to help him through with whatever waited for him. Would their combined light be enough to help him see his way through the darkness?

Would it be worth it?

There was only one way for him to find out. Would he be crushed under the tide? Drowned and dragged away? Or would he be saved by by Sam and Lucifer? Guided and loved and held until the nightmares disappeared.

"I... Do you think I am ready?" he asked, needing another's reassurance before he walked willingly into the darkness.

Lucifer was silent for a long while, gazing around the paradise that he had made for Castiel, some subconscious penance for what he had done before. When he turned back to Castiel, he knew there was only answer to give, "As ready as you'll ever be, Castiel. I've given you what I can, but this is something you have to do on your own, because the only other option is if I take your memories from you entirely, and then you would lose everything you knew of Sam, and Dean..."

He motioned and a memory of Dean walked into Castiel's mindscape.

"You loved him as well, although you were not bonded. You gave him immeasurable gifts. I would have no way to give him back to you, Castiel. He has passed beyond my ability to observe for you..."

Castiel startled when he was given his memories of Dean, and he closed his eyes, parting his lips as memories flooded back to him. Taking a deep breath, he shivered to have the memories, of more humans, of smiles and laughter, of arguments. Of judgmental looks, and kind neighbors. And he knew then what the darkness must be about. Sam was the only human left, though they had traveled the Earth countless times.

He didn't want to lose whatever this was, these memories of a pair of brothers who he had protected and loved. He understood. Everything. Was he ready to face it?

"I understand," he whispered.

He hoped that these memories would be worth it.

"Will you be there? When I wake up?"

"Yes, Castiel, both Sam and I will be there. And I promise you, we will never leave you... and if you can not take it, if you want the nothingness again, it will be we who will take your life and usher you into oblivion."

There wasn't anything more than that that Lucifer could promise, nothing more than that that he could give. This whole scenario was the best, last gift which he could give Castiel, besides death.

Castiel nodded slowly and took a deep breath, looking around with a soft sigh at the Eden that had been created to ease him and heal him. He was afraid and it showed, but he also knew it had to happen. It had to be this way. There was no other. All he could hope was that Lucifer was not lying to him, that they would be there to hold and comfort him, that they would love him and soothe him, and he could enjoy the rest of eternity despite whatever would hang over him.

If not, there would be nothing again. It would be as if he had never been, as he had been before he'd begun to sense again.

"Alright."  He agreed. "Alright. I'll wake."

"Lucifer... Thank you, for all off this. If I cannot say it later. Thank you. I'll wake, just give me a few moments. Please."

Lucifer rippled, dispersing from the humanoid shape he had been, expanding out to fill the sky, to reach out to the stars. "It has been my pleasure Castiel. I certainly hope you make it through this..." Then he left Castiel's mind, teleporting Sam and himself to Castiel's body, still safely ensconced within the tree, although animals had made nests years ago in his hair and a fox lazily blinked for where it had been napping against his legs.

"He... he reached out to you?" Sam asked, unable or unwilling to stop the smile that spread across his face as he looked at the body that he'd never been able to bring himself to visit, it had felt too final, too much like talking to the gravestones.

"Yes Sam, he said he was going to try to wake up. There is a very good chance that he will still have to fight through his memories once he is awake, but it would be best to..."

"Be here when he wakes up," Sam finished for him, knowing the mind of Lucifer like he knew his own. "Well then," and they sat down, "I guess we'll wait right here."

* * *

 

Castiel took a few moments to drink in what had been given to him, stocking up on memories to hold him against the time. The flutter of the butterflies wings, the coolness of the snow, the fur of the bunny, the scent of flowers. He had to hold onto these, because he wasn't sure if he'd be washed away later.

And then with one last look around, he gathered the parts of himself that had been made whole again and willed himself awake, out of the dream.

He was slow to wake, his vessel's nearly imperceptible rate of breathing quickening as taste and touch slowly filtered back to him, along with with a cacophony of sounds, none of which were human in nature.

The pain that hit him with the memory of humans, of this world, of what he'd done, was expected and yet not, screaming through him with an intensity that made him gasp. He started, his clothing long ago worn away into bare threads, feeling the bark scratch his skin, the fur of the fox that bounded away as it's resting place moved around it.

Castiel tumbled out of the tree, clawing and scratching, panting hard as he shook leaves loose and dislodged twigs. Tears were already streaking down his face as blue eyes looked around desperately, the memory of Lucifer's promise barely at the edge of his conscious. "Sam? Lucifer?" he gasped as he curled on the ground, trembling as he weakly wrapped his arms about him against the onslaught of blood and destruction he'd tried so hard to escape from. Fingers dug into dirt and grass, pressing his forehead into the ground.

Sam was there in an instant, hands on Castiel's face, lightly pulling it up to look at him. Lucifer was there, Grace reaching towards the meager supply Castiel retained, his great wings spread wide in defense of the two beings he viewed as his.

"Hey, come on Cas, I'm right here. I gotcha, I got ya." Pulling Castiel into his arms, he felt his heart shudder at the tears that were streaming down Castiel's face, knowing they were only a physical representation of all the evils attempting to pour forth from Castiel's soul. "It's gonna be alright, Cas..." But he couldn't promise that, he knew it, all he could do was hold onto Castiel and pray, pray that he wouldn't lose him for the last time.

Lucifer opened a connection with Castiel, only needing the seraph to reach out at all and he would weave Castiel into his Grace, into the energy of creation that he existed from, into his own Host, as none of the Fallen were.

Collectively, the whole of creation, their creation, held its breath to see what a single, broken angel would do.

Castiel cried as Sam pulled his face up, reaching up to grip at Sam's wrists as he fought all of the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him again. Guilt and pain and desperation flooded every corner of his being wiping away the peace he had found in an instant. He had the support of both his bonded and his brother, and he could barely feel the tethers they represented through the storm that cut through him.

He curled into Sam's grip, terrified and horrified as the things he had done waged war on his conscious, taking up the battle again as if they had never laid down their arms, and he hadn't spent millennia knowing peace. His vessel's knuckles were white as he gripped at Sam's shoulders, gasping for air as if his lungs had been crushed.

He reached, oh, did he reach for the connection Lucifer represented, though he almost didn't, simultaneously wanting to disappear into that darkness and fold himself into the light.

This was a new world, a new start, and he wanted to see all the wonders it held, but he was being torn apart by morals instilled in him long ago.

Through it all, there was only one thing that stuck out to him, and that was the silence the absence of humans had caused. There was no hustle and bustle, no cars, subways. Only birds and crickets and the falling leaves...

It seemed like an eternity later when he managed to choke out the only thing he could find the breath for, still undecided about if he could live with himself.

"It's... so... quiet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, make of it what you will.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with us through the long haul and coming to the end of all things. Here's to hoping Nepherim and I didn't fuck with your minds too much. *Evil grin*


End file.
